This is a song about "Flicka da wrist"

You messin wit da truth,

High as shit, i’m in a booth

Inside my heads telling me evil thoughts

My gun your scars, your wrist your calls

Before your wrist is snapped

Fucking hoes, no strings attached

Work that wrist im the maestro,

It ain't nothing though

Friend or foe, niggas still can't tie the lace though

Wear dem in da sand, wear dem in da snow,

Eating all da fudge like da fat kid in school

That racks on racks so motherfucking fool