This is a song about "Rap god sick cars money hoes and clothes"

They talk about the flash clothes, cars, money, cash hoes,

Wayne told me that and that's just how it goes

They disregard me, i guess they all got egos

Dreaming about the cars, clothes, bitches, and hoes,

I'm the first one to do that i bet you never knew that

Rolling with the dopest hoes and they don't know i rap

Hoes and bros and average joes chillin' like a sick villain,

Fucking chin-checkin' punks 'til he's outta breath and done

Dreaming about the cars, clothes, bitches, and hoes,

Ever wonder exactly where the sun goes

You dead broke, yes folks, the jewels are like egg yolks

They talk about the foreign cars, bitches, and the finest clothes,

I ain't got fancy clothes, cars, mansions, or j's on my feet,

Take cee around town as if everything cheap

Money's on my mind, break the bank, now the clothes and hoes,

I'm love stoned from everywhere and she knows