This is a song about "The traffic"

And i believe in them, a couple lames out there had beef with them

I'm driving head on into traffic hoping for a head on collision

Shit's a traffic jam, and we bomb pakistan with gats in hand,

Just think of all the people that you knew in the past

That no one can sit through like rap traffic.

Either that or they 4:4, some call them fantastic

Its tragic tho, been cast a role to crash into traffic slamming in panic to a faggot hoe

Tell me i ain't god's son, nigga mom a virginwe got evicted had to leave the burbs, back in the ghetto

Girls, traffic and some things tragic

Teach you how to rope a chick

Are fine, so many guns being smuggled in traffic jams,

It’s a party in my pants and you invited with all that dance

Put the grants in the safe, 'cause we spending the jacksons, the

They gotta like a nigga, call me obama