This is a song about "Hairs"

I don't let that stress me out, i don't need my hairs turning gray.

She said i'm her hideaway i get her off like a holiday

Stop sign eyes, cross-hairs on a sight/

Which you know i'm different, right

Hairs away from qualifying, still got free lunch, that's how it feels,

On award tour, on excursions, i'm a virgin of swap meets

Yeah months in every night she's in tears

Brush my teeth and comb my fucking chin hairs

And i would never walk in the shadow that never was really there

My mansion's diamond in mayfair, cosigning with reigned hairs of slain mare,

On that water like islands they ain’t swimmin’ you dig

Have these niggas falling off like hairs of my pubic.

Menacing stares, he glares makin' the hairs all on the back of your neck stand

Why we call them hoes bitchesand maybe this might help you understand