This is a song about "Phones"

Playin' cee-lo, rolling dice, and talkin' on their mobile phones,

Now son is the only onegrows up in adoption homes

Fly nigga couldn't tell me nothing different homes

I got more bars than fully charged cell phones

And erase my number out the phones of these fake hoes,

Now i play the roosevelt and i cop rose

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

Gasping for phones, but ain't nobody even home

Pounding on the stereo, in my head phones,

Instead they talking bout some thunderstorm, cyclones

It's as if the phones, tablets and ipods have turned into cyborgs,

I like to think i write and rap as tighter than some biker shorts

Rappers talk shit, they got no lines like cordless mobile phones,

My momma taught me never steal and never tell on folks

It's 6 am, i'm solitary, calling with pay phones

That they probably be in the closet of old folks