Emeks, come here man, sit down man
Get that gansta shit off your head man, what's wrong with you man?
That blue bandanna man, what does that mean?
Take it off, take it all- you see all of that gangsta shit?
Put it on the side man, we gonna have some real conversation
Father to son
Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?
I had my pops inside my life, but right now that shit don't matter
He been locked up most my life, so I feel just like a bastard
Police kickin' in my door, threw my mama on the floor
HPD took my pops, I bought a heat, hit the block
I was in them streets like speed bump, potholes, V12-auto Forgiato
Balenciaga, no red bottoms, I don't rock no Ferragamos
I was Maxo Kream, El Chapo, dodgin' narcs, get you knocked off
Black suburban swervin' make me nervous when I'm making drop offs
Used to handle rock like hot sauce, call the hot sauce get you knocked off
He ain't got no chill, he kill for real, and he gon' blow your top off
G63, I took the top off, bitch with me she took her top off
Dick ain't hard, she sucked me on, soft hole-in-one, her mouth like Tiger
Forever 'n ever, not sober, the city of double cuppers
We beefin' this place and mothaf******u, your sister, your brother
I'm clutching gun in my holster, Beretta wet 'em like coasters
They shot my pops and my brother, so I slide with choppas like butter
Pop toasters, let go my ego, for pesos get you a halo
Locked up my pops and took my brother, so my daddy was my mother
Hit the stove, stealin' candy, got grown, start servin' Xannies
Mama told me hit the do', she ain't want dope around the family
Moved in with my grandma, servin' grannies at my grannies
Mama couldn't stand me, say I act just like my daddy
Fist fighting Pirus, I hit the school with the Ruger
Had to take my fifty too, and hopped on Five-Deuce Hoover
I was a young nigga in the streets, I ain't know nothin'
Ain't no big homie tell me shit, own my own thuggin'
Bad ass, acting up in class, I ain't learn nothin'
Reminisce on my first lick, a hit for four onions
I turned that four into a sixteen, and now I'm road running, hey
Trap house scorchin', use the stove and the oven
Every time I stashed it in the house, my brother stole from me
And I was down bad, and off my ass, nobody rode for me, hey
I was broke bummy, wasn't havin' no money, ay
Ran the check up, now you wanna hold somethin', hey
Two Glocks, fifty shots, that's a whole hunnid
Hit a nigga with two fifties, call it change for a hunnid
---
Bissonnet - Maxo Kream
