This is a song about "Bone"

Put my number in your phone

And one bitch who bad to the bone

But lucifer's the one that wanted you, he threw the dog a bone,

And all these peasant motherfuckers take shots at the throne

The j gets smaller, i'm loving my zone

Chicken bone, not a phone, chicken bone, not a phone

So don't follow me home

But now she's all flesh and bone

Upholstered with dead remnants of muscle and bone

You gon' miss a good thing, end up bitter alone

I'm looking down on you fakes whilst on my throne throwin yous a bone.

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

On our throne just trynna throw you a bone

I'm definitely in a class of my own