This is a song about "Max chris"

Epic, they used to feed me detours

That chris brown and rhianna line wasn't yours

We can make more, make babies

Hi my name is chris, i'm a weed thief,

I wouldn't drop that much on rick ross or chris rock

I'm a fucking walking paradox, no i'm not

I wanted a brother my mother i told her

Father christmas, satan, and chris dorner

Mad, just like max, you must be glad you had a patch/

Swear this closet full of heat, bitch i never need a match

You trying hard to maintain, then go headcause i ain't mad at cha

Through the microphone, max alone, hold the throne, slam ya,

Like that tragedy chris angel,

Ha, that make it hard to be faithful

Yh, we do it air max,on the ankles/

Or closed casket for our troubles