Letter To The Game

Letter To The Game

Max B

LETRA

Letter To The Game Letra

The kid Big Mike!
Byrd Gang!
Gain Greene! Max B!
Hold your head playboy, we got you!
Free Max B!

I send niggas to go inside your bed
The bullets will coincide with your body
My motherfuckers will go upside your head
I be trying to control my desires:
Bitches, money, and liquor
Purple on the side, my dedication to niggas
They wanna follow, I ain't ready to lead
When it was time to pop off I was ready to breeze
But there was something in my soul that was telling me to squeeze
Seen him dead, laying different, I knew he couldn't breathe
Nigga you fucking with a G
My alias Biggavel'
Better ride your own wave, I got bitches to feel
Bring my people out the hood
Drop a few on the scale
Even brought a couple niggas that was [?] up in jail
Heard a story about my nigga
Who had knew he would tell
It's cause of you bitch that my nigga in jail
Federales came through the fucking pen
Tried to shoot me a L
Got me stuck, tryna recruit me to tell

You told me you need me, oww
You told me you loved me, oww
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, oww
You also said 'til death do us part you would never walk away

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 you dame
Bitches, they tell me I look good, I'm sexy 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
Motherfucker, I'm still here, like a Make a lil something back, we still eat off of caine
I don't need you, I'm cakey up in the I'm the Boss Don bitch, I wear the pants in the family
Naw, I ain't content with being rich and I'm good
I love my niggas cause they treat me like Richie in the hood
When Max leave, you gone know it with chips up in the hood
Stack keys, stack cheese, that grip up in the hood

Fuck the police, coming straight from the streets
Full of crack, a young nigga got it bad cause he black
Got it bad cause he whack
Feds caught him slipping, got a pass 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
Pops tried to flea the game but they drag daddy back
I'll put your body parts in them Glad baggie sacks
Nigga the Dips come through in the latest toys
You fucking with them boys (they them boys)
I'm the realest nigga out
Gold clip, cock back, time to air this nigga out
No, uh-uh, I ain't trying to feel this nigga out
I ain't trying to meet at the table and hear this nigga out
Trying to clear this nigga out
Put the gun to his chin and air it in his mouth

[Hook]