This is a song about "Stars"

You pull up in parking lots

I leave em frettin more than rock stars

Trying to say goodbye to the glamorous chains and cars

I grew up in new orleans, ball players and rhyme stars,

And baby we could carve our names into the stars

Its way different ma you see em passin' out bars

You trap stars, i’m rhodes scholar

I'm gon do it proper

We're the tip-top of hip-hop, breed rhyme stars,

Bail was a quarter mill, they put me in a box

This is the part where we run hip hop

Stars interlock, faster then a shot

Like me, when i'm shooting for the stars/

Forearm with my gang name, that's an old carve

Even though in nola we either ball or give rhyme stars,

In this fucking line at ralph's buying granola bars