This is a song about "Homes"

And that’s a scary thing, i try to duck em good

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

I treat arnette like a net when i stop and shoot

Police be barging into homes but that's rude

I remember shotguns and modest working class homes,

Now i play the roosevelt and i cop rose

I be staying at the roosevelt more than marilyn goes

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

To havin' good homes, never is my stomach growlin',

I spit that garden of game, look at the hoes on him

Ricky moore flightposite, mike bibby blue foams

Gettin' dumb and dumber, you a brute, homes?

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

Make their feets get wet and funky up in they under arms

I'll probably re-visit those old shotgun homes and trailer parks,