This is a song about "White sheet on his body you re think he a ghost"

No kids, no ring herd she do your own thing

While he sits on his throne and think he's king

The drug that they brain need

See, if he read this sheet,

Member when you had a jheri curl didn't quite learn

Burn like furnace urns, re-furnish on the track as a fern,

Body in his arms he holds her up says baby don’t go i love you baby

Woooh, race my niggas, and i bet you never pass me like a free safety

A nigga ghost every time youngin on the flow

Ok, polo with no horse though, d.c. well of course though

My talent should take me places i've never been

I tend to think he went on a fucking vacation

Prefer you grab a piece of sheet

African queen got what you need

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

All the shit that his dealing on his own, if only he had a friend to phone