This is a song about "Sandy stone"

The streets in need of a king, you can tell 'em i’m home

I got some sinners to collect, their fates are carved in stone.

Stone cold bout to go in a coma

And muthafuck the quota

I'll whip a 750 if it's black on chrome

Don't you know you can't get blood out of a stone?

Niggas, little niggas doing it big, know what i'm saying, y'all niggas 40 and shit still in the game

I hit a driveby on sandy hook while in the memory lane, but im not insane,

Her kitty-cat fish loves his tuna

Mind so cold leave you in stone, medusa

And all these peasant motherfuckers take shots at the throne

You a game hater, and you call yourself a rolling stone,

But my vision has inclined to some interscope, and its home

Walk out on that note, leave standin frozen like madussa to stone.

On these beats i poke-a-man like a moon stone

But i be like for real, just pick up that phone