This is a song about "Homes"

And sell out 'till we dig holes for homes like peter rabbit,

Notice it every time i pick up the microphone and spit

Fans catch us on animal planet, tracking hoes

Stoned with his friends while throwing shit at the neighbours homes

I remember shotguns and modest working class homes,

And them hating ass niggas, we ain’t like those

Out the homes lickety split *poof* like smoke

And i be good til the fat woman sing a note

Best stay away when the door closed, i show up with four hoes

Who would forgive me even if i burnt down all their 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

Because now a nigga hot enough to fuck with one of satan' hoes

Figure this out, the king of the south, i'm poppin' bones from shotgun homes,

This is for the kids who live in ghettoes and their broken homes,

See baby lately seems my life been hell and heaven knows