This is a song about "George and his concussion"

It's his highness and the finest

Slow sink, can't breath, no remorse, dont think

Why my life depend on what i'mma do today

Now his rank stripped and his life taken away,

Because that booty mad thick behind your juicy ass lips

Using his music to steer it, sharing his views and his merits

And non-nigga friends got it with him

A roof for their stuff, shout out to george carlin

And thank doom for his herbs/

That try to chase these skirts

And thank doom for his herbs/

Talking of the gods you serve

A tear down his cheek and his legs feel weak

I pray the lord my guns to keep

Fucking concussion in my mind and it don't even matter

It's not a figure of speech when i tell you that i dumped her