This is a song about "Allen stone"

Don't you know you can't get blood out of a stone?

The streets in need of a king, you can tell 'em i’m home

Playing with fire is a danger zone

Medusa head will turn u into stone

I'm definitely in a class of my own

You a game hater, and you call yourself a rolling stone,

Lickin fast-food wrappers, the cap-stone capper

Wolf gang be on that wrist split splatter

Holding up stone boulders on both of these cold shoulders,

I refuse to be another being on this earth

Stone cold bout to go in a coma

And muthafuck the quota

Don't you know you can't get blood out of a stone?

Gets older, bolder, and cold cause he's left alone

Young money, cash money so strong, keep scorin’, i’ma bring it on home

But i am known to be blown, like a clone or a drone made of stone