This is a song about "Weed and cars and xanex"

Indubitably i'm too street

"kill this nigga, guns and weed"

I'm an eskimo, nigga, i got cold bars

Bubbling above the elevated tracks and cars

Swear i will murk any beat

Put up and smoke that weed,

And i park cars i don't pay for the meter,

I rush to tend her, talked as i touch her

The money, cars, and clothes, the riches and dough,

I keep a level head, gettin high layin low

And it is to drive in all these fancy cars

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

The big bad wolf to me you're just a minor fox

You'll be missing work, and switching lanes, and hitting cars,

Weight stand out like pimples and cold-sore lips

Yeah, fancy cars, big bodies and fresh kicks