hella trees

we be smoking hella trees,

soon be counting hella guap.


tops my spot,

i want no top

from no dusty thot.


you know that i’m pressure, boy.

there’s attendance at my lecture, boy.

you know that i’m the man—

yeah, the one they mention when they talk.


we be rolling hella trees,

this that gas, i call it

satan’s leaves.


i just want a fancy one,

make me dance a little, hun.

i don’t want no sad ho,

i just want one that’s bad though.


flexin’ on them assholes,

star shine bright on jealous souls.


feel the shift when you in my spot.

i’m not like these other guys.

they don’t know half of what i keep inside.

they don’t know what it takes to be that guy.


i am not an asshole.

i’m just what you call

true hope.



— Mr. Mak


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