This is a song about "Dont cut"

Chomping at your oxygen chords

I dont just cut with swords

Third ward general, young cash money

I cut the crap recklessly

Cut me like bacon i'll cut you up like leeks

Way too big for my my fucking jeans

Lucky seven probably poppa

Get your sentences cut off comma,

Cut her, take everybody out

Baby heading down a cloud

There’s no looking out, got cut,

Some niggas ain't got no luck

Ya ain't killers ya’ll got hundred yard dash guns

Because i needed to cut that decadence.

Hit me so bad baby girl give me a upper cut

I don't really know what the fuck's in my cup