Yeah, fancy cars, big bodies and fresh kicks
She on media take out, but don't take out her kids
I like hoes that like poles in clean clubs
Drivin' my impala and selling drugs
She pretty but she insecure as baby-mother scars
That look in his mama's eyes, he was traumatized by police cars,
Ever wonder exactly where the sun goes
Dreaming about the cars, clothes, bitches, and hoes,
You'll be missing work, and switching lanes, and hitting cars,
A fuck that we will never give is like our pops
Neighbours washing cars and reading fucking magazines.
But you ain't never pleased, maybe you should leave
All i need is moola cars and friends
Odd future wolf gang, wolf gang presents
And when we fucked i just wished it was safe sex
Thats my surroundings in compton, have common sense
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