This is a song about "Bag of bones"

Im clean and slick, i crack bones, and stab bones, and ass bones

Now son is the only onegrows up in adoption homes

‘cause we can’t see your bones

I got alotta phones

A few niggas talk but they do without knowledge

And smoke wannabe emcess like a bag of cabbage

They try to bag the essence of youth, and then will drag it home,

You cowardly-hearted, you couldn't make it on your own

Patron black, uh, patron jones

Taking shots that rattle my bones,

Targeting drones looking for holy bones

Instead they talking bout some thunderstorm, cyclones

Snapple fact: you rather wack

You're fuckin' with the fifi bag

And these two, other sloos, sucking my dick for a bag of jewels

Are you afraid of a thug? and have you ever made love