This is a song about "World phone cars"

I'm from a cocaine block, with some plain clothes cops

We drive around in million dollar sports cars

Spittin' ridiculous shit about mitsubishi plants, makin' cars

Metaphors in every color, these indelible bars

Calling bitches up on my cellular phone,

The kings get killed very least overthrown

So i always use a phone

Lets get fucked up to the bone

While in the distance i hear passing cars

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

I feel like i got fifty cars

And i'm still hurtin over pops

Livin the fast life, in fast cars

More props. r.i.p., my poor pops

Whiskey cigars and fast cars?

And when this beat drops, your heart stops