This is a song about "Max neuman"

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

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

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

Come close, catch a contact, i got a loud pack in my cargo pocket

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

But a couple shots of it got a nigga on stuck

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

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

A bunch of fucking wolves and rats having niggers the size of shaq

Trying to get max strength

I like rollin' with friends

Niggas talkin' greasy, i'm the one that gave them they chance

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

Through the microphone, max alone, hold the throne, slam ya,

Used to call me the african don dada