This is a song about "Son telling his dad i jate you"

Thank you for my wife. for my son and everything i have,

Still stop and i laugh; ma, get them rocks in your ass

You faggots had your chance to pan me, i plan to be grimy son,

Bout to plan a 211, murder your partner he'll meet you in heaven

Hit the club and i let it fly, claim you balling nigga telling lies

Cherry red dice i’m a gambling man i’m never taking twice

If you're dealin' with hardware i feel bad for you, son

Living in a box full of cuyahoga booze, and listen

She always comin back

Cause you looking like maxes dad

And if loving her is wrong then i just know i won't see heaven

Always a jokester, stubborn as mule but i miss having you call me son

Long as i can feel my heart tap like happy feet

Son, i put on a clinic, you put on clinique

Shout out chrissy, rozay and all that

Well its between you and dad