This is a song about "Quiet ceying over that whore"

I'm skipping over that struggle

A criminal grind mean hustle

Cause it'll never be the same hereso i wipe away the tears

Haha, shit gets sick, but sometimes lifes a bitch, but i love that whore to death,

Now that girls over me

What them tippers don't see

And the headrest had to have about eight thorns

They believe that they are the over-lords

That our over protective president

I guess that’s why all of these niggas get bent

Like that one whore yeah that one i meet at the store,

That fire flow the finest women i adore