This is a song about "Nail clippers"

A poor white southern boy, fuck it, life, i should nail it hard,

Have to move that bitch so far she need a postcard

You kidding meit's really nothing to me and my king

I dodge em like clippers to a hairline that's receding

Twenty inch nail rifle

As i light one for ill will

A nail in ya skull leads to nails in ya coffin

Swift-made switch blades made a big incision in him

He ain't even respect the name, he said whale

I nail this scale, don't need a paved road, i can make my own trail/

Make your bitches' therapist ask for dental records

Nail you to your fuckin' floorboard, razor-sharp raw swords,

It's a nail and a tire: cross him and you're flat, that's exact

We fight with these rings with the intention to ever last