This is a song about "Gang at home"

Matter fact, my connection's pretty weak at home

Born alone, work alone, die alone

Is how much goddamn pussy you can get at your home

But i be like for real, just pick up that phone

My pockets got paper on paper

He'll be at home jacking off later

Fuck the fat lady, it's over when all the kids sing

You killed da nigga i bet his parents at home waiting

Said fifty for a song, and they won’t leave me alone

At the end of the day he just wants to go home

Sitting at home thinking "man where could my father be?"

You got ben's arranged money, have a benz or range money

Baby got that super bass

In home staring at my face

Still on my grind, got a lot of kids at home

I date a white girl soundin' black on the phone