[Verse 1:]
|
I send niggaz to go inside ya bed
|
The bullets will coincide with' your body
|
My muthafuckas will go upside ya head
|
I be tryna control my desires:
|
Bitches, money, and liquor
|
Purple on the side, my dedication to niggaz
|
They wanna follow, I ain't ready to lead
|
When it was time to pop off I was ready to breeze
|
But there was some'n in my soul that was telling me to squeeze
|
Seen him dead, laying different, I knew he couldn't breathe
|
Nigga you fuckin' with' a G
|
My alias Biggavel'
|
Better ride your own wave, I got bitches to feel
|
Bring my people out the hood
|
Drop a few on the scale
|
Even brought a couple niggaz that was boost up in jail
|
Heard a story 'bout my nigga
|
Who would knew he would tell
|
It's cause of you bitch that my nigga in jail
|
Federales came through the fuckin' pen
|
Tried to shoot me a L
|
Got me stuck, tryna recruit me to tell
|
|
[Hook:]
|
You told me you need me, ow
|
You told me you loved me, ow
|
This my letter to the game
|
Why'd you lie to me
|
I let you ride for free
|
Things ain't the same
|
You said you better take me back
|
You better cut me slack Max, ow
|
You also said 'til death do us part you will never walk away
|
|
[Verse 2:]
|
Take a look at the matter, it's so edgy
|
Take a look at my swagger, I'm so ready
|
Take my picture, I'm bad and I'm so heavy
|
I'm so ready, ready for the game
|
Slick-talker, I ain't have to trick 'fetti for ya dame
|
Bitches, they tell me I look good, I'm sexy in the Range
|
It's like I'm cruising jet skis in the lane
|
If the water wasn't frozen you could ski off the chain
|
Muthafucka, I'm still here, like a 3 off the brain
|
Make a lil' some'n, I could still eat off of 'caine
|
I don't need you, I'm cakey up in the innie
|
I'm the Boss Don bitch, I wear the pants in the family
|
Naw, I ain't content with being rich, and I'm good
|
I love my niggaz cause they treat me like Richie in the hood
|
With Max B, you gon' know I'm with chips up in the hood
|
Stack keys, stack cheese, that grip up in the hood
|
|
[Hook]
|
|
[Verse 3:]
|
Fuck the police, coming straight from the streets
|
Fulla crack, a young nigga gotta bag cause he black
|
Gotta bag cause he whack
|
Feds caught him slippin', got a pass cause he rap
|
The boy Max home and I'm glad that he back
|
Glad that he focus now, glad that he rap
|
I seen him Hummer-stuntin' in that bad Cadillac
|
Pop tryna flea the game but they drag daddy back
|
I'll put your body parts in them Glad baggie sacks
|
Nigga the Dips come through in the latest toys
|
You fuckin' with them boys
|
I'm the realest nigga out
|
Gold clip, cock back, time to air this nigga out
|
No, uh-uh, I ain't tryna feel this nigga out
|
I ain't tryna meet at the table and hear this nigga out
|
Tryna clear this nigga out
|
Put the gun to his chin and air it in his mouth
|
|
[Hook]
|
|
-----------------
|
Letter To The Game
|
Max B |