This is a song about "Cell phones"

Calling niggas really knowing they dont give a hell

It doesn’t matter whether i’m locked up in a prison cell,

Ever wonder exactly where the sun goes

And erase my number out the phones of these fake hoes,

That they probably be in the closet of old folks

It's 6 am, i'm solitary, calling with pay phones

Gasping for phones, but ain't nobody even home

Paparazzi, magazines: please leave me alone

Been calmer than dahmer up in a prison cell

Cash and hell rell. zeek doin' 3, he even fell, hell

I'm love stoned from everywhere and she knows

Like tapping in the mobile phones, in my chromosomes,

Right next to the fat lady hitting high notes

Pounding on the stereo, in my head phones,

Zoned out face in a cell phone - imprisoned

Hoping wes snipes make my life a bit different