This is a song about "Cold cuts"

Hit strip clubs find bitches with big butts

Ink, feather, and paper cuts

I'm official nice, y'all niggas fisher price

Scars arise, cuts on my thigs, surrounded by lies

Put up to act gangsta, i’ve still experienced cuts,

Every time she catch feelings she go throw away the gloves

It was a good call to cover the cuts on the motherfucker

Like food for thought was my father but i ain't have the hunger

Cuts ur vital parts and sparks the final shots,

For multiple years, witness peers catch gunshots

This is the root of all evil

My dj cuts material....

She graduated top of the class

The truth cuts through his heart feels like glass

Beaverton my sneaker game although i never be with ducks

Covering their arms with cuts and spending all their money at starbucks