Maxo Kream - Bissonnet lyrics

Emeks, come here man, sit down man
Get that gansta shit off your head man
What's wrong with you man?
That blue bandana 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 have my pops inside my life
But right now that shit don't matter
He'd been locked up most my life
So I feel just like a bastard
Police kickin' in my door
Threw my momma 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
'Lenciaga, no red bottoms
I don't rock no Ferragamos
I was Maxo Kream, El Chapo
Dodgin' narcos 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
Genesee Street, 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 never, not sober
The city of double cuppers
We beefin' this place and
Mothafuck you, your sister, your brother
I'm clutchin' 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 give 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
Momma told me hit the do'
She ain't want dope around her family
Moved in with my grandma
Servin' grannies at my grannies
Momma couldn't stand me
Say I act just like my daddy
Fist fightin' Pirus
I hit the school with the Ruger
Had to take my 52
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
On my own thuggin'
Bad ass, actin' up in class
I ain't learn nothin'
Reminisce on my first lick
I hit for four onions
I turned that four into a sixteen
And now I'm road runnin', 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 on
My ass, nobody rode for me, hey
I was broke bummy, wasn't havin' no money
Hey 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