This is a song about "Paper cuts"

Where you welcome to problems

Ink, feather, and paper cuts

Left me like a blank white paper

I thought i recognized her

The nerve of this prick, he said fuck it you can have her

Tripped, racing ya self trynna chase the paper

I call it speaking tongues

Blood and cuts, ifs and buts

Far from alarmed, i just part wit my problems

Put up to act gangsta, i’ve still experienced cuts,

Like you never get right? sort of like a black sheep

That’s why i strike first and the verse cuts deep

And it cuts like a knife. whenever i think of it.

Sippy cup full of whip creamed hot chocolate

This is the root of all evil

My dj cuts material....