This is a song about "Bedding"

Wear out tracks, let me do my thing, i got 16, for this roscoe thing

Not living in the stars with an angel in your bedding,

As they lay in blood stained bedding throw a punch to make your head swing

So they quote me and love me like i’m a poet or something

No more bedding chicks from plenty of fish, i think

Yeah, you got me feeling like the greatest