This is a song about "I cut my wrists"

Bout some shit thats been shanking my wrists.

See, i'm just trying to focus

I dont just cut with swords

Chomping at your oxygen chords

Letter to the ghetto, hold your head high

And i will cut it short for i,

My wrists is froze, im super loc'd up

On they car note to go to the club

Dead at thirteen cause he yearned to bangsniffed a lot of flowers, but how could i cry

Around kids. these fuckin hopeless slits on my wrists arnt doing anything why

With scars apon my wrists and razors in my dreams

Spit selvage my nigga, it's in my jeans

Roll you up and let it run through my veins

I wanna grab your wrists and strain some chains