This is a song about "Max waldman"

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

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

Nigga, don't be nervous nigga, say somethin'; trust me guys, he can 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

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

Cause youse a down ass bitch, and i ain't mad at cha

Notice everything it wasn't. realizing why it shouldn't ever be again

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

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

And i don't know no triple h, but this is all about the game

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

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

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

They got me goin mad, i'm knockin busters on they backs