This is a song about "Cutting shapes"

Make your bitches' therapist ask for dental records

Instead of cutting my heart in half, you cut it in thirds,

No more cutting grams, and wrapping grands up in rubberbands, i'm a

All my shit designeri fucked your bitch in versace, nigga

They were partying i was cutting tracks

Left hand got ten bands; back pocket, four stacks

They rap they're ass off and don't nobody like their songs

Holding a saw for cutting my victims into fours

Cutting past the wrists into the pissed anger fits

Smokin' weed like it ain't no thing, so even kids