This is a song about "Home"

She goes on in, walks into his home,

Girlfriends, groupies, then i'm all alone

Little latasha sho' grown

Sherlock holmes, no shit, just go home

Yeah, he blowing up your cell phone

Asshole flowers, going home

Into home runs, while you run home shook and rattled

Since napster the sales been crashin' and

I date a white girl soundin' black on the phone

Of rotten mold inside your noggins cottage home

Gasping for phones, but ain't nobody even home

Getting brain when i’m talking on the phone

Hardly thinking of the girl at home,

Yup, hit e.t up on the cell phone

Smoke one stack straight to my dome

Your story ends its time to go home