This is a song about "Stealing cars"

When bret hart meet brett farve

Hoes love me because of my cars

I can taste the salt from my tears

Confessing my stealing #convenience

A fuck that we will never give is like our pops

While in the distance i hear passing cars

Fuck, clean up on aisle six

Stealing magazine's & chip's

Whiskey cigars and fast cars?

And when this beat drops, your heart stops

No kids, no ring herd she do your own thing

I'm in here counting green, y'all out there stealing

Took a shot, tired of runnin from the niggas and the cops

That look in his mama's eyes, he was traumatized by police cars,

I won’t be bragging ’bout my cars

Sb nike's, with the grey box