This is a song about "Long phone calls"

Metaphor, chilling with better whores

My gun your scars, your wrist your calls

That he dont even own

Out at night mama hit my phone

Like that drop out who created my phone

Mami told me son, hold your own

So i ended up all alone

Stop blowin up my phone

Music is my first, but i contemplate divorce

Sticking such things on walls for better calls

Your girl calls it hockey stick

Baby am i slick

Come on girl, close your eyes pretend that your home

I miss hearing your voice over the phone

I got a love jones for your body and skin tone

Chicken bone, not a phone, chicken bone, not a phone