This is a song about "Max dimon"

Illustrated my lyrics are ill and that gets you frustrated so welcome max version

Call that bitch rondoi'm fresher than the prom hoteach her, we don't fly coachshe fuckin' but she act dumb

Confidence to the max multiplied by ten, finally coming out of the den/

Then start again, don't have no muthafuckin' friends niggalook inside the heartz of men

Yh, we do it air max,on the ankles/

Ho, slut, no love, turn beef to cold cuts

My lyrics are ill to the max that's why they've thrown up,

I can hear the bells ringing off the nice dream truck

I diss wiggas that do this shit. i'm pissed the fuck off to the max man so fuck it.

Every time i walk inside the house, she always tend to start shit

Trying to get max strength

I think you and your friends

The tracks on snack off raps, see stacks from back of my slacks

These flows keeping it up to the maximum cause the max

But lemme tell you that them heels really complement your frame

It's not a game when i tell you, that i feel this max payne