Verse 1:
She was a blonde haired blue eyed Swede,
smooth knees, in a Belle and Sebastian tee/
the first time I saw her I was working at a Cash-N-Dash,
she appeared lookie hear at me through the plexiglass/
I perked up and I embellished a tad,
then I leaned on my keyboard revealing my name tag/
she said, “Hello Jamie” all cutesy as if she knew me,
and smiled as she admired my hideous work uni’/
I said, “Hi, welcome to Cash Cow”
Where there’s always MOO cash for you, right now/
are we borrowing or sending today?",
She said "it’s a little complicated" started looking the other way/
And shifting, I admit that my eyes were drifting,
but not to the haunches, though, I would be remiss/
if I didn’t mention the fact that them shits were there,
man it’s hip to be square, and oval shaped like a pear/
I am not fancy, she is classy and looks awesome ,
bitches ain’t shit, but she is blatantly bonkers/
and she might be slightly off her rocker,
she reached into the bra, pulled a .22 from her knockers/
And laid it down flat, finger tapping on the trigger spine,
“you wanna paint the town whatever colors we can find?”/
then she winked, and said her name was Maxine,
she advised me play it smooth and we can split the whole thing/
and me being the dummy that I be I agreed,
we can get away in my Jeep Grand Cherokee/
and we did, now I’m going all out kid,
and I got mad love to give, you my nigga-ro//
Verse 2:
Good lord she's wearing my bears jacket,
middle of December and it’s too cold to hack it/
without wrapping those shoulders up and grabbing some fro-yo,
me never rolling dolo, uh-uh, no-no/
a young koala bear and I be staring at her steelo,
I’m on some early onset Stockholm Syndrome shit/
this is it, did I mention I own a blimp?
she grabbed on the steering wheel and pretended to crash it/
and with laughter she squawked and was like “gotcha bitch.”
started pantomime rapping along with brother lynch/
I am sold, man this could never get old
from her toes to that tiny little mole on ear lobe/
everybody knows I haven’t been naked in years,
you can have my flabby chest and the scraggly beard//
Chorus:
Vroom! vroom! mashing doing about 40
eating frozen yogurt, just me and my shorty,/
she's riding shotgun, holding the shotgun,
you fuck with the Argyle, she's dumping a hot one/
Lets go, lets do it, lets go for broke
If you ever leave my sight I will slit your damn throat for real…so just chill///
Speaking:
Maxine: Ok Jamie this is it, we’re going inside of there for realz, okay,
So are you in it or not?
Jamie: I think I’m in it.
Maxine: No, there’s no more thinking, we’re done thinking, the thinking part of it’s over, we’re doing this for really doe. Are you in it to win it, or are you not?
Jamie: I’m in it to win it, let’s go.
Verse 3:
Holy moly, crap, strapped,
With a fully automatic uzi and a soda pop in my lap/
Me and my white boo, too-true splash down and dribble,
Puddles of love, cuddle with fuzzy knuckles and little/
Itty-bitty-itsy pieces of miniature,
Bullets, we packing massive heat up under our shirts/
We mosey into our local shopping complex,
Step into that dummy like, “man, who’s next?!”/
You don’t wanna test me, I’ve got a mini mac 10,
A 12-gauge pump, and I ain’t trying to make friends/
It’s a robbery, and your securities mocking me,
Maxine and Jamie Lee, we be sleazy, and sloppily/
Hawking loogies, cocking weapons, hobnobbing with bullets,
Yelling really scary in our Jerry Curl mullets/
Plastic bags, draped over the face from Vons,
Guns muzzled with tape, and a package of tampons/
get your mack on she told me as I approached the teller,
I cocked the shotgun she turned into Helen Keller,
while Maxine was blasting the security guard,
the bank manager went and flipped the alarm/
like, do that shit, do that shit, do it
DO THAT SHIT, DO THAT SHIT, DO IT,
I said, do that shit, do that shit, do it,
DO THAT SHIT, DO THAT SHIT, DO IT///
credits
from Maxine (single),
track released March 11, 2013
written by: jamie nelson
produced by: juan duarte
trombone by: gary anderson
“The Argyle Pimps are injecting an efficient hybrid of humor and that self-serving braggadocio which has been missing from the indie rap circuit.” - URB Magazine Cockamamie Jamie