This is a song about "Bone"

You left your nigga on his own

Ill cut you and eat your flesh to the bone

Seeps into my bone marrow and sharpens

And in akron, my niggas they would throw things

Well to each his own, gilly off the dome, it's like from wheat to bone

I know i ain’t perfect, i’m out here working for the throne

I'll be bugs with no carrot a dog without a bone.

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

You haters put up your guards

I rake in loads of bone charms

The kings get killed very least overthrown

Shit just makes me get cold stoned to the bone

But a pole position you couldn't hold, not even your own wooden bone

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