This is a song about "Max with a tin box and a spoon"

And like a boxer im beat her box,

Can't see his son shine like the four tops

A sound of tin breaking my reflections, start inspection

And i can't breath when i'm high cause the airs too thin

A pine box, closed casket and mommy's black dress is real

I swear these bitches look up to me like i'm doing here

Cream of the crop, scheming to chop and place an mc in a box

So i'mma push it to the end and take quarters on shots

Don't shit in a box anymore,

Turn it up a little more

This a mad world, and im mad max,you a bag girl,your raps are mad whack

We ain't having ittime to tear this shit back, ghetto children kick back

The fluid on my eye falling while i do the rhyme

And i'm not just saying that cause i drank a whole box of wine