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