Work Songtext
von Maxo Kream

Your name is Emekwanem Ibemakanam Ogugua Biosah
Emekwanem means "don′t fuck with me"
And the word don't fuck with me means don′t mess with me
And Emekwanem would mean do not ever think of making me mad
Because if I get mad...
Do not ever carry on with my boy
Cuh-rip

Used to stash the package in the mattress or the sofa
Mama kept complaining 'bout the marijuana odor
Had a brick of molly when the lawman pulled me over
I was putting keys in the motor like Toyota
Used the Karo pints, I fucked a lot of niggas over
So I bought a pipe and kept the toaster with the holster
Used to ask my brother why he cook with baking soda
Told me I won't understand this life until I′m older


Work that work, had to work my work
Work the work, workin′ with the work
Work that work, workin' with my work
Work the work, workin′ with the work
Work that work, had to work my work
Work the work, workin' with the work
Work that work, workin′ with my work
Work the work, workin' with the work

Granny always bitchin′ 'bout me saggin' at my britches
So I got to whippin′ with extension cord and switches
Mama used to tell me stay my ass up out the trenches
But I never listened, hit the trenches, started Crippin′
Posted on the block, Glock tucked with the Hoovers
I was selling rocks to a cluck like a rooster
Math teacher ask me, Maxo, why I'm always skippin′
I was trappin' fractions after school like detention
Broke as hell we had to manage, chicken noodle, syrup sandwich
Jew, Medulla, Josh, and Alex, had no beds, we slept on pallets
Daddy was a swiper and my mama was a booster
Cousin Pooh, he was a killer, all my uncles, they some losers
My brother Hew was janky, niggas robbin′ andale
'Till I went inside his room and stole his AK
Stupid ass decision, I regret it everyday
A nigga caught him slippin′, shot him right inside the face


Went from whippings with a belt, to whippin' like a chef
Cookin' with my left, cocaine and meth
Pops locked in jail, Glock on my shelf
Murder block, bang my set, slangin′ pot, Percocet

When I was twelve I went from Chuck-E-Cheese to selling work to fiends
Now I′m grown as hell, the trap the only thing that work for me
DeeJay, Money, Lindo, Ceelo, DeAndre, CBD
In a 4 door, Buick stolo that we took from H.E.B
Stupid shit I used to do, trap for tennis shoes
My bars like inner tube, I'm crash like Bandicoot
See the streets is all I knew, pimps and prostitutes
I never owned a suit, I was known to shoot
Now I want that Bentley Coupe, shootin′ stars inside my roof
Where I'm from, if you a star, you handle rocks or shootin′ hoops
My dad was locked up, doing time for crackin' cars for revenue
Twice a week he call my line, to preach and tell me what to do
Told me follow mama rules, read my book, go to school
But instead I bought a tool, hit the trap with Janky Ju
Shake, residue, fast money, goop
But I needed something new, hit the stu′ and worked the booth
So I

Put in work, had to put in work
Work my work, workin' with the work
Put in work, had to put in. yuh
Put in work (work, work), work with the work
Had to jugg my work, work with the work
Had to work my work, put in work (work, work)
Put in work (work)