This is a song about "Home"

Put my number in your phone

East with biggie and group home

I never had a place to call home

Girlfriends, groupies, then i'm all alone

Real street nigga, ain’t no clone

She goes on in, walks into his home,

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

Your story ends its time to go home

And i'ma call it my home

Be shy when we're all alone

The prerequisite is gun clappin' so what happened

Into home runs, while you run home shook and rattled

75. i'll be sleeping at home,

Stop blowing up my cellphone

I woulda done anything for my own

Enough heat , to melt down your fucking home