This is a song about "Group homes"

Out the homes lickety split *poof* like smoke

This be the realest shit i ever wrote

Man you never know how rapping goes i got all over the world and different shows

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

Perfect 10 and lord knows that i need one

Yea its my group its my legion

Arise through the group you came from

Magic city tipping them

And yeah we up in stadium, quarterbacking hoes

I remember shotguns and modest working class homes,

Tell them people we ain't leaving go adjust dude

We're trained in a new cage and booth, a hated group,

I'll put you in your place, and i don't even sell homes

Ever wonder exactly where the sun goes