Lyrics
I got hit-man on the beat
Spin on a lo’, go drop a bag, and get a nigga buried
Lil bro shoot shots all through your car, he think he Stephen Curry
I done dropped an eight inside my soda, that mean my drink is dirty
I’m gettin’ mo’ money in the streets than Ross
I got these chicken servin’
They brung the strippers to the studio, just give me service
I’ma put my trust inside this toolie, ho go seven thirty
Stay with my demons every day, these niggas good at murkin’
Droppin’ a ticket on the day they tryna play with Smurkie
Can’t be cool with niggas, I can’t vouch for niggas, how they move
Do you like Ruth Chris, have my shooter turn you to some food
I’m ina ‘Cat, I’m in the trenches, I’m with the demons, I’m in the zoo
I’m bringin’ out the racks, I’m the one buyin’ the chain, cost a coupe
I bought five hotel rooms to put my clothes up from the mall
Niggas turn to rat calls and we crushin’ ’em like a car
My young bitch better take a charge, fuck another broad
It ain’t no R.I.C.O. case gon’ stop another body from droppin’
How many body niggas died? How many got?
Mad Max (Max, Max), Mad Max (run up on nigga like)
Mad Max (and get down like), Mad Max (on his ass)
Mad Max (we kick up), Mad Max (man, what?)
I got my stick out, leavin’ the bitch out, tell bro ETA to my side
I could’ve been part of that R.I.C.O
I called Thugger, told ’em every nigga I shot
Whenever it’s war
You never see main names, you gotta get everybody he got
Take off a ski mask
Pray on the phone with the E Man to get close to Allah
Failed my driver test
Popped out in the middle of the street, ain’t park the car
Had to rob a nigga I know, he changed the bag and said it’s za
Every nigga ’round me had died, I paid the bills off for their mama
Grabbed the cannon, grabbed the uzi, spin that bitch like DJ Drama
I don’t be admittin’ no crimes
Sayin’ my names on blogs, that meant they dyin’
I’m too trench
You could claim that body, I’m never admitting to slidin’
I never blackball none of y’all bitch ass niggas
Them rappers ain’t doin’ no crime
I’m the voice, I got choice to let you live or get you slimed
I spent a hundred at Western (let’s go)
On Pat I’ma get in my weapon (let’s go)
He can have that nigga, expensive (let’s go)
Big threat and I’m dyin’ to get you (let’s go)
That swish shit bound to get you (grrah)
Free Mac, we flyin’ to get you (grrah)
One nigga ain’t die, he cripple (let’s get it)
You ain’t know he was gon’ get you, did you? (Let’s get it)
He ain’t keep his pistol, pistol
Harlem Shake when they hit you, hit you
Mad Max (Max, Max), Mad Max (let’s go)
Mad Max (run up on ’em like), Mad Max (kill his ass like)
Mad Max (hold ’em down like), Mad Max (keep a gun like)
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