This is a song about "Bad homes"

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

Fuck you little comfortable middle class dual-earner homes,

Never chose the bad life , no bad crowds

Baby moms on greyhound for 8 hours

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

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

I do this shit for ghettoes and those 'hoods and kids from broken homes,

I be staying at the roosevelt more than marilyn goes

I said boss and i meant that; advance, you spent that

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

I'll put you in your place, and i don't even sell homes

Right next to the fat lady hitting high notes

See baby lately seems my life been hell and heaven knows

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

To havin' good homes, never is my stomach growlin',

Thought you was a cutie, though your booty mad thin