This is a song about "Host"

I caught a felony loving the way the guns blow

Has played host to a host of the wrong, known all along though.

Wrapped around your throat, you about meet death with me as your host

Righteously living, i know all my verses be cold

I had dollars for a young’un ever had cents

It’s a neighborhood where nervously i host black friends,

The director, host is my agenda, italian leather

But what i do know, is that he's real and he lives forever

So hood i put sugar on toast then i serve it like a host

To packin' up and leavin' notes, and gettin' ghost

But for most i see you as a ghost on while i be the host,

I remember when i used to bust a mack with my eyes closed

Rednecks would get nervous when you would host black friends,

Shitting on these niggas like i need depends

I watched people i know pray and catch the holy ghost

But can i really call me one when i talk most to a host