This is a song about "Max paperclips lily pasta"

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

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

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

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

Trying to get max strength

To increase my ends

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

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

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

Ok i’m wale but you can call me nada

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

Still standin' and in love with my prideheard frivolous beats, we past that

Santana, zeke the kufi poppa

Last night i had some dope pasta,