This is a song about "2 homes"

Lucifer's back with his mixtapes, dropping fire, y'all waiting folks,

Giving excuses like shit i thought i was alone or i thought it was my homes

Without choice or hope to voice our own noiseless mope of far away homes

Because now a nigga hot enough to fuck with one of satan' hoes

Best stay away when the door closed, i show up with four hoes

Figure this out, the king of the south, i'm poppin' bones from shotgun homes,

Make their feets get wet and funky up in they under arms

I'll probably re-visit those old shotgun homes and trailer parks,

And sell out 'till we dig holes for homes like peter rabbit,

I’m tryna have them lips sync, milli vanilli shit

Got 2 vest and 2 techs with extra clips on me

As i seenobody cares about my history

Police be barging into homes but that's rude

Tell them people we ain't leaving go adjust dude