Money,Cars,Chicks

Just thirsty chicks tryna see the d

Ha - so gifted, do it truly

Tell em they close to stevie

Hundred more chicks wanna get sleazy

Man in the mirror, i can’t get my shot again

Thinkin you're so good cause you got money, cars, and fame,

Bubbling above the elevated tracks and cars

Fat rhymes every time, bitch, roseanne bars

All they talk about is money, weed, and cars/

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

Hoes show me love, niggas give me props

I won’t be bragging ’bout my cars

It's about niggas and bitches, power and money

But that doesn't stop the nasty chicks from saying "fill me"

While in the distance i hear passing cars

Heard the sound of several gun shots

So here i am at the store for some chips

You spiteful little bitch taking 12 inch dicks

The jiggas and the tips

You old kicks won't find new chicks.

Then i stabbed in their dicks

Lil prps like 3 digits

The city streets - bars, clubbing and cars rushing at sickly speeds

On award tour, on excursions, i'm a virgin of swap meets

Stayed behind the bars of the prison, farthest from cars n' the women insane at best

Making passionate love 'til the daylightplus we about to get evicted, can't pay the rent

And i'm still hurtin over pops

While in the distance i hear passing cars

A hell of motherfucking road blocks

Whiskey cigars and fast cars?

By spittin these bars, leave retrieved cars at the dump

Self-awarding, negligence of the less important,

Dreams of giant mansions, diamonds chains, 8 or 9 cars,

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

Bubbling above the elevated tracks and cars

Metaphors in every color, these indelible bars

Fuck your cars, fuck your feelings.

Fuck, clean up on aisle six

My squad, holler the loudest, y'all niggers childish

Baptized in eternal fire i'll shed so many tears

Cause u know that this my jam

Damn shame niggers in my crew can't bang

But all i hear is "money, hoes, i'm the shit, cars and chains",

To the point that he just breaks, snaps, and it's all it takes

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

And it is to drive in all these fancy cars

All they talk about is money, weed, and cars/

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

Who listens to rock n roll,who raps and lives in the ghetto

Got my carry-on but really wish i had a pound with me though

And i ain't spend a minute up in the streets

Neighbours washing cars and reading fucking magazines.

Stay gold, stray old, maturing means that your life sucks

Drivin' my impala and selling drugs

Bubbling above the elevated tracks and cars

Your bitch looking messy like she smoking rocks

And get me some more drugs

Good kids make bad grown ups

Hoes show me love, niggas give me props

All they talk about is money, weed, and cars/

Queen wit a crown that be down for whatever

I don't care about the nice cars and shoes with the leather,

But compliment her tits and then its off to hump her

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

I tell them killers they ain't figure what they fightin' for

I don't care about the nice cars and shoes with the leather,

But like a porn star i'm best when to swallow

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

I cop weed for less of a percentage than i fucking plot seeds

The city streets - bars, clubbing and cars rushing at sickly speeds

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

I wanted a brother my mother i told her

And mine somewhere bout mars

Whiskey cigars and fast cars?

And induct them into the mothafuckin' rock 'n roll hall of fame

Now you scratchin' on my back, i see your pleasure in my pain

All they talk about is money, weed, and cars/

Slangin' rocks with your glocks put this tape in your box

Thinkin you're so good cause you got money, cars, and fame,

All them other boys targets and i'm flawless with the aim