This is a song about "Max walsh"

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

Blowing that money here, making money in europe

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

You can mix 'em all together you would still be twice as bad

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

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

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

Stay gold, stray old, maturing means that your life sucks

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

These flows keeping it up to the maximum cause the max

Mic defibrillator give you haters heart attacks in advance

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

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

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

And i can't even trip, cause i'm just laughin at cha