This is a song about "Cold cuts"

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

And, uh, i don’t know what keeps me alive, shit

I hated, some ritalin, some white socks

Cuts ur vital parts and sparks the final shots,

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

They just be eager for money they ain't trynna jesus' mother

Until the see-saw cuts a skirt of a fake

That's why this my mission statement, bitch get it straight

And we stumpinbut can't catch the beat

That’s why i strike first and the verse cuts deep

Is a space that now you hold

Hand to hand in the cold

Also, this mothafucka got a nine to five

Scars arise, cuts on my thigs, surrounded by lies

Straight to my partner room and let him beat it like a keyboard

That cuts you and supplements the nutrients from my fork,