CUT UP

Bad but not a bitch
Hide the cuts up on my wrist
Got a 30 ounce stash
And a bloody bruised fist aye
Fuck with me, a risk
Fell in love with death's kiss
I'm sick of pussy boys
Tryna fight me for a bitch
I like the sight of blood
Yeah I guess I'm kind of sick
Put my faith in the blade
And the dead boy clique
I ain't stoppin' till I'm rich
Got the steel against my wrist
Your bitch want you to fight me
Because she just miss this dick

Bitch
Yeah you cappin'
Yeah you big mad
I'm just fucking trapping
But I know you wouldn't get that
Pull up and I ravage
Like a titan on the attack
Hop up on the beat
And you know I'm boutta rip that
Cut up
Wrist lookin' like a barcode
Fuck a long term
I got a lot of hoes tho
Dead boy
I be looking like a ghost
Got a lot of blood
On the bathroom floor

Know your fucking place
Got the .40 on my waist
Yeah we dipping out
Cause the coppers on the way
Broke a mirror the other day
Cause I hate my fucking face
Fuck them, fuck you yeah
Fuck the human race

Got a big bag of weed
I just blew a whole check
Black chain on my wrist
And a blade around my neck
Don't call me goth bitch
Metal's what I rep
Got a lot of bad habits
And a fucking date with death

Aye
And I do what I want to
Fuck your team, fuck your clique
Fuck your whole crew
Yeah
I don't fucking know you
Sad boy
Got no friends
Thought I told you
Cut up
Wrist looking like a barcode
Fuck a long term
I got a lot of hoes tho
Dead boy
I be looking like a ghost
Got a lot of blood
On the bathroom floor



Credits
Writer(s): Brett Graham
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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