This is a song about "Acres 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,

To packin' up and leavin' notes, and gettin' ghost

Appalachia and the row homes in the northeast coast,

I'm chasing money, not the liquor, y'all ain't even close

I'm supposed to flow and so i'm dope, i rap for broken homes,

Gettin' dumb and dumber, you a brute, homes?

Sorta like drano...you know how the game goes

At the same damn time, gettin' hit on by a couple hoes

Stoned with his friends while throwing shit at the neighbours homes

And walk through shotgun homes filled with bullet holes,

Two big faces on my wrist, boy i got a couple those

Harder than my dick when taylor swift is in my basement

And where's the reparations, 40 acres in a agreement,

If i take an oath that mean i give up all my area code hoes

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