Skrt, skrt, psh
This song is about a car accident

[Verse 1: Michael Christmas]
Uh, yah
And now I'm crashing, moving different directions
Before I kick the bucket I got to complete my check-in
Got to get my check up, make sure I don't regret it
And when you're almost dead you start thinking about the best shit
Me and Ciara eating and plotting our future
Head like Medusa, the DJ banging (?) my head like Mr. Koopa
(Blaw, blaw)
73 in a Mitsubishi
Swerving across the lane, head smashing the window pane
Looking down' cause I can feel this pain
Stomach cut, a little blood, that's what's up
N***as made it, now we up
And I want championships like cups
I'm trying to collect them shits like mugs
And go to space and shit like Bugs
With my Lola, she's a cholo
And she say hola, I need Boca
And my pops called me up like you talk to Boffa?
(Yo you talk to Boffa?)
And I'm like Boffa?
And he like both of these nuts! Got him! (these nuts, shit)
Yo
Superstar stats (Winning)
Over (?) 96
We don't fuck with that side like a twix (Nope)
'Cause they all think we do that same shit (Fuck 'em)
And they all think we want the same whips (Fuck 'em)
And they all think we want the same bitch (Fuck 'em)
And they all think we'll never know shit
Lights flashing, oncoming traffic, oh shit