This is a song about "Nail clippers"

So needless to say this, leadership is not with a timid sail

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

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

Over the edge, yeah i hide in a potato sack

Trigger squeezed, shine at the tip of my finger like nail polish

My bitches bad, these niggas mad, i guess it's just what the fame brings

Last nail, robbing you of your cuticles, and your music flow

I don't got no time to call, hope that you ain't mad though

Passion in rapping a blessing to even see this

Trigger squeezed, shine at the tip of my finger like nail polish

And the headrest had to have about eight thorns

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

Can't be positive, when the ghetto's where you live

Throwing big dogs like clippers, no emily elizabeth