This is a song about "Clone hoes"

But i am known to be blown, like a clone or a drone made of stone

And all these peasant motherfuckers take shots at the throne

Big homie hov said i am close

We out here chasin hoes

You chasing hoes, we replacing hoes, bag and pass them hoes

Two big faces on my wrist, boy i got a couple those

Getting through to the parallel universe where i see my clone

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

You chasing hoes, we replacing hoes, bag and pass them hoes

And a nigga have ‘em beefin’ on who gon' twist up my new growth

Inhibitions is gone, she just want to be known

Time to go back, i guess i liked being a corporate clone.

Keep it trill for the hoes

Ain't no women at the shows