This is a song about "Clayton homes"

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

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

I still keep it indie, y'all worried the dow slim

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

I'm supposed to flow and so i'm dope, i rap for broken homes,

Because now a nigga hot enough to fuck with one of satan' hoes

Yea i’m on that ball shit, boy you with that soft shit

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

Long as i can feel my heart tap like happy feet

From ghettoes and broken homes, we're roses grown from concrete,

Gettin' dumb and dumber, you a brute, homes?

No bullshit, every shy bitch can get a rose

Giving excuses like shit i thought i was alone or i thought it was my homes

N we gone keep this shit row these niggas know how i go i do this shit for my folks

Alwaysstay ahead of these stank hoes

And walk through shotgun homes filled with bullet holes,