This is a song about "A phone"

Send me automatic no practice i ain't gotta aim just shoot that bitch

When i get my phone i get snapped nudes, mostly from some bitch i saved from a ditch,

Don’t let it drift away like a feather and i’m home, home, home

All the shit that his dealing on his own, if only he had a friend to phone

Hit towns with coke, a .45 blue as chrome

My friend took a pic with his small phone

I turned down a quarter mil to pitch a mobile phone

She like, girl you wrong running away from home

Little latasha sho' grown

A lotta hoes in my phone

Psych! already tried before, that phone call equals a fueled strike/

Rappers are regular people minus money ya like

And don't you bring your camera phone

This nigga jasper trying to get grown

Far away from home

Stop blowin up my phone