This is a song about "Slice arms"

Fuck pigs, fuck guards, all some fucking retards

With blood running fast down my arms

Bitch i slice your biscuit

Razor grips, laser spit

I've been fly, i'd could probably show

Hold your arms cry and wallow

I, own guns, got my own arms dealer

"contemplate", i wrote about her

But the love from the boppers had 'him watchin they rise

Get ya' cake right, every chicken wanna slice

Bitches talk to me, and they send you niggas postcards

And in those third world countries it's used like soviet arms,

Look, i'm still talking to you baby

Your arms enfold me, cloak me