This is a song about "Stone hut"

I date a white girl soundin' black on the phone

As our dead bodies hit the cold oh brim stone

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

Once considered a rogue, i was chilling alone

I was in the zone fuckin boned her then didnt phone her that is stone cold

Philosopher's stone made into the cylinder turning the rockets to gold,

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

You gon' miss a good thing, end up bitter alone

Yeah, you can tell em i’m home

Kill 10 birds with one stone

But oh i can’t stay away, not never, your my home, home, home

But i am known to be blown, like a clone or a drone made of stone

Tell them to keep it running, i’m keeping the grass cut

You're the tree that's been cut, no leaves or fruits in the hut

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

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