This is a song about "Cold cuts"

Our vision never changed, we self made

Until the see-saw cuts a skirt of a fake

I just want my cards dealt right, cuts proportionate, fortunate,

Watch me blow like i exhale i excel in this rap shit

Tattoo just covers cuts,

Smoke until i ain't got no lungs

Blood and cuts, ifs and buts

Or closed casket for our troubles

Ink, feather, and paper cuts

Hit strip clubs find bitches with big butts

86. blood from the blade cuts,

Shout out my nigga miles

Those explain the cuts and the burns.

The richest place on earth

So fuckin' awesome, kickin' rhymes cold,

Can’t tell your girl so she the center fold