a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

letra de letter to the game - max b

[verse 1:]
i send n-gg-z to go inside ya bed
the bullets will coincide with’ your body
my m-th-f-ckas will go upside ya head
i be tryna control my desires:
b-tches, money, and liquor
purple on the side, my dedication to n-gg-z
they wanna follow, i ain’t ready to lead
when it was time to pop off i was ready to breeze
but there was some’n in my soul that was telling me to squeeze
seen him dead, laying different, i knew he couldn’t breathe
n-gg- you f-ckin’ with’ a g
my alias biggavel’
better ride your own wave, i got b-tches to feel
bring my people out the hood
drop a few on the scale
even brought a couple n-gg-z that was boost up in jail
heard a story ’bout my n-gg-
who would knew he would tell
it’s cause of you b-tch that my n-gg- in jail
federales came through the f-ckin’ pen
tried to shoot me a l
got me stuck, tryna recruit me to tell

[hook:]
you told me you need me, ow
you told me you loved me, ow
this my letter to the game
why’d you lie to me
i let you ride for free
things ain’t the same
you said you better take me back
you better cut me slack max, ow
you also said ’til death do us part you will never walk away

[verse 2:]
take a look at the matter, it’s so edgy
take a look at my swagger, i’m so ready
take my picture, i’m bad and i’m so heavy
i’m so ready, ready for the game
slick-talker, i ain’t have to trick ‘fetti for ya dame
b-tches, they tell me i look good, i’m s-xy in the range
it’s like i’m cruising jet skis in the lane
if the water wasn’t frozen you could ski off the chain
muthaf-cka, i’m still here, like a 3 off the brain
make a lil’ some’n, i could still eat off of ‘caine
i don’t need you, i’m cakey up in the innie
i’m the boss don b-tch, i wear the pants in the family
naw, i ain’t content with being rich, and i’m good
i love my n-gg-z cause they treat me like richie in the hood
with max b, you gon’ know i’m with chips up in the hood
stack keys, stack cheese, that grip up in the hood

[hook]

[verse 3:]
f-ck the police, coming straight from the streets
fulla crack, a young n-gg- gotta bag cause he black
gotta bag cause he whack
feds caught him slippin’, got a p-ss cause he rap
the boy max home and i’m glad that he back
glad that he focus now, glad that he rap
i seen him hummer-stuntin’ in that bad cadillac
pop tryna flea the game but they drag daddy back
i’ll put your body parts in them glad baggie sacks
n-gg- the dips come through in the latest toys
you f-ckin’ with them boys
i’m the realest n-gg- out
gold clip, c-ck back, time to air this n-gg- out
no, uh-uh, i ain’t tryna feel this n-gg- out
i ain’t tryna meet at the table and hear this n-gg- out
tryna clear this n-gg- out
put the gun to his chin and air it in his mouth

[hook]

- max b

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS