This is a song about "Comb over"

You wife ain't shit, we g'd her

Im dissing fags over

And if my mother answer, i'll ask her

It was all shattered and over

Questioning the whole meaning

Your over worrying

It ain't where i been

Over the competition

Over these mattresses,

The way she walks and causes a fuss

Riding around with ms. reece and them

I thanked him over and over again

Then it bunny hopped off my shoulder, now my conscience dead

Or the comb in my head enough said we need the bread