This is a song about "Cold cuts"

Or closed casket for our troubles

Blood and cuts, ifs and buts

Cause i walk around with pockets that are bigger than my bus

I know its showing i suffer paper cuts but it isn't enough

Yeah come holla at your uncle

My dj cuts material....

Scars arise, cuts on my thigs, surrounded by lies

You heard the price, on my neck herds of ice

And it cuts like a knife. whenever i think of it.

It's like my lawyer know black magic, black rabbit

Hand to hand in the cold

I say that the pool is closed

Franky lymon the lime light gets old

Skipping class and growing cold

Fuck healing i'm killin and sinning, shove venom in cuts

And finally, everyone got their own problems