This is a song about "Max max"

Rocking black and gold stocking caps and fleur-de-lis shockey hats

And now i'm amplifying my shit, turing it to the max,

I ain't fucking mexican, but we can have sex again

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

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

And i ain't shallow, material things suppress bad luck

See these little niggas rappin' to rap, man i just happen to rap

This a mad world, and im mad max,you a bag girl,your raps are mad whack

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

Trying to get max strength

I think you and your friends

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

Instead of countin sheep, niggas countin cannibalsand that's how it is in the pen

Mad, just like max, you must be glad you had a patch/

Swear this closet full of heat, bitch i never need a match