I should have signed to Coke Boys, but I was sellin' dope, boy (Dope, boy) The Butcher comin', nigga Should have signed to Coke Boys, but I was sellin' coke, boy (La musica de Harry Fraud) You know how this street shit go What y'all niggas expect from me? It was destiny I grinded accessibly, put rocks on the neck of me This coupe I got from Doupon, registry The standard of hammer, in my all rooms, I get a new Glock every week My old bitch think I'm too rich to send a Uber My new bitch wanna get pieces made for my jeweller Drive-by's with rugers, twenty racks for the shooter The FBI heard I can make cocaine like I'm Scooter The letter told my nigga in jail, told him he blessed He said, "You gotta hold us down, you the only one left", yeah Responsibility come with the opportunity Don't want no crooked preacher lyin' in my eulogy Hoes think they usin' me, I got her out the country eatin' beautifully Spent a couple hunnid on her charcuterie War endorsement, war with law enforcement 'Til my long full of Maybachs and small Porsches Let's go (Haan) I should have signed to Coke Boys, but I was sellin' dope, boy (Dope, boy, Montana) I should have signed to Coke Boys, but I was sellin' dope, boy (Haan) I should have signed to Coke Boy, but I was sellin' coke, boy (Coke, boy, Montana) I should have signed to Coke Boy, but I was sellin' coke, boy (Coke, boy) Coke Boys charged double in the drought Hack busted in her stomach, started foamin' out the mouth (Woo) On strays, broad day, think they like sweet And my youngin got the K like Skeet (Bah, bah, bah, bah) Before you try and surf, let the wave break (Break) Let the cake bake (Bake) Talkin' summers, I done had a whole decade straight (Haan) Her eyes dilated, we gon' miss dinner She don't eat, like her manager was Kris Jenner (Ah) Need a brick in a brown bag? Sign to me Never let nobody live in your mind for free (Ah) And when you get tested, you get your answers Block pitchin', jumpin' like Miles Bridges (Uh) Could have signed to Cash Money but I was gettin' cash money Nick, game floor seats, next to Van Gundhi (Ah) Coke Boy co-founder, head cracked like I was nose-divin' At the met gala with no stylist, haan (Ah) I should have signed to Coke Boys, but I was sellin' dope, boy (Dope, boy, Montana) I should have signed to Coke Boys, but I was sellin' dope, boy (Haan) I should have signed to Coke Boy, but I was sellin' coke, boy (Coke, boy, Montana, haha) I should have signed to Coke Boy, but I was sellin' coke, boy (Coke, boy) Yeah, they hit niggas with the RICO (Uh-huh) The only drill he ever been on was from Home Depot (Haha) It's never your enemy, it's always your own people (Yeah) Pride was the reason he died, no ego (No ego) You know me, you know me, the don Jada (Yeah) I'm out there, morning shit for the Montega (Woo) Work touched down, I sold it, I ain't hold it (Uh-uh) Twelve hours, hand to hand, no COVID (Nope) We just rubbin' bands, the money, we don't fold it (Never) As far as the account of me goes, we control it (We control it) You have a lil' luck if you came up (Uh) Ask me, fentanyl is fuckin' the game up (Hmm) You get your chain jumped, just play the game proper (That's it) Playin' with your nose or is you a fane popper? (Fane popper) Knockin' off half in zips, just another day at the office Bags and bricks, what's up? (Haan) I could've signed to Coke Boys, but I was sellin' dope, boy (Dope boy, haan) I could've signed to Coke Boys, but I was sellin' dope, boy (Dope boy, haha) I could've signed to Coke Boys, but I was sellin' dope, boy (Dope boy, don't worry about it) I was sellin' it all, haha

Call me Mr. Double Seals, vacuum sealed, crops and fields, watch me mail 'em Call me Maxo Dr. Phil, takin' pills, off depressants Perkies, Seroquels, we called 'em football heads when we'd sell 'em We was goin' fed, movin' football heads, call it Helga Codeine by the leaner, pounds of gasolina and Griselda Servin' with my nina, cookin' good Christina Aguilera In that cherry-red Beamer, champagne two-seater Limo tint, John Cena Maxo Money Making Mitch More like Alpo, I go Rambo, watch me kill you for them bricks I keep that heater on my hip, love my nina, that's my bitch Down to drill like O'Neal, she'll kill you for them bricks Monkey nuts, banana clips, go Harambe for them chips Trappin' ain't dead, you snitch to feds, but them feds won't protect you Lettuce, bread on your head, dead your mans, tell him, "Catch up" Pull up gunnin', bullets flyin' over heads like projectors My flow vicious, every sentence over heads like projectors Tookie Williams with my crippin', overhead, boss lieutenant Hit your block with them chops, let off shots, we gon' spin it Hit your block with the mop, poppin' tops, we gon' cleanse it Shoot up your house with them Glocks, killin' everybody in it Call me Mr. Double Seals, vacuum sealed, crops and fields, watch me mail 'em Call me Maxo Dr. Phil, takin' pills, off depressants Perkies, Seroquels, we called 'em football heads when we'd sell 'em We was goin' fed, movin' football heads, call it Helga Codeine by the leaner, pounds of gasolina and Griselda Servin' with my nina, cookin' good Christina Aguilera In that cherry-red Beamer, champagne two-seater Limo tint, John Cena Yo It's me behind limo tint, off a ki' that I triple flipped That's me with the broad with the foreign car and the big ol' tits That's me with the V that start at three, then shift to six That's me with the 80-carat VS piece with the big ol' chips I'm the reason there's work back home, I'm the reason these niggas rich I'm the reason these haters poppin', they swing on this big ol' dick I'm the reason these trappers back, tell Zack he should get a flick And we need this wide angle, and make sure you get the kicks I look like I'm worth the guapo, I look like I work for Chapo My bitch worth a few hundred K, my neck worth a Murcielago I'm from the real nigga era where money don't certify you She thinkin' Del Frisco's, but she get a Birkin out you I fuck with niggas like Max', you fuck with niggas who rats Fans don't know the difference from song and what's really true facts My dog said he been to Wafi and Fevzi, he still ain't found a white watch I said, "Invest it all on white blocks," let's go Call me Mr. Double Seals, vacuum sealed, crops and fields, watch me mail 'em Call me Maxo Dr. Phil, takin' pills, off depressants Perkies, Seroquels, we called 'em football heads when we'd sell 'em We was goin' fed, movin' football heads, call it Helga Codeine by the leaner, pounds of gasolina and Griselda Servin' with my nina, cookin' good Christina Aguilera In that cherry-red Beamer, champagne two-seater Limo tint, John Cena Maxo Money Making Mitch

You're saying that you want me you don't really understand Thought that we were friends now you're tryna' hold my hand Told her I don't want no money, I don't want no fucking fans Got the the type of friends that'll fly out to Japan I ain't got no other plan though I ain't got no other plan though I'd rather hide then go make a couple bands though Look they made a song, now they say their life's a movie That shit be Ironic cause they sitting and they bruising They got money and they wanna spend it like they're cruising Yeah yeah now they pull up, now they losing You make tracks to make stacks I make mine to kick back and relax It's the shit that you wish that you had I been thinking bout spitting and measuring time Doubling rhythms and tripling rhymes You wanna sell tickets, you wanna make lines Stop calling my number, the fuck off my line I switch my flow up like I'm NASDAQ Deliver all my promises like Amazon's my backpack They're half that and I ain't gotta prove it cause they're laughed at So I can leave it ringing in your head this ain't my last track You're saying that you want me you don't really understand Thought that we were friends now you're tryna' hold my hand Told her I don't want no money, I don't want no fucking fans Got the the type of friends that'll fly out to Japan I ain't got no other plan though I ain't got no other plan though I'd rather hide then go make a couple You're saying that you want me you don't really understand Thought that we were friends now you're tryna' hold my hand Told her I don't want no money, I don't want no fucking fans Got the the type of friends that'll fly out to Japan I ain't got no other plan though I ain't got no other plan though I'd rather hide then go make a couple bands though

Voices in my head Now tell me that I'm dead now I just don't believe it Just tell me can you prove that you can prove them wrong Prove them wrong Prove them wrong Prove them wrong Voices in my head say I might end up dead today Can you prove them wrong wrong Can you prove them wrong wrong Cause I don't think you can I don't think you can