This is a song about "Home"

Stop blowin' up my cell phone

U never being home,

I'll whip a 750 if it's black on chrome

Yeah, you can tell em that i’m home

Smoke one stack straight to my dome

If u wanna get home

So i guess you think you grown

Asshole flowers, going home

Into home runs, while you run home shook and rattled

My parents went away on a week's vacation and

Its a home run, your domes done, go home son

You trying real hard to appeal to someone

I woulda done anything for my own

Gasping for phones, but ain't nobody even home

Of rotten mold inside your noggins cottage home

And firm his beliefs... his heart made of stone