This is a song about "Cuts"

Smoke until i ain't got no lungs

86. blood from the blade cuts,

Scars arise, cuts on my thigs, surrounded by lies

Them haters wishing they could see my demise

Ink, feather, and paper cuts

Where you welcome to problems

I pull up in that 'rari with them other ones

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

Cools cuts, make his meat real lean

Miami nights, it was all a dream

Fall down but still no cuts on me, head so high even giants look up to me

Lemme see them big titties, don't be actin' sadidy you're not pretty

Shout out my nigga miles

Blood and cuts, ifs and buts

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

Swallow the cinnamon, i'mma scribble this sin and shit