Disco 'Public Domain: Million Dollar Baby Radio' (2006) al que pertenece la canción 'These my streets'

These my streets

Max B


These my streets Letra

Deez my streets, deez my corners
Fuckin' with Max B nigga, you's a goner
Bullets in yo' ass like heat from the sauna
Jeeps run up on ya
Peeps with them heats in them jeeps that'll scorn ya
Momdukes, popdukes
Dress up, black suit, at your wake tend to mourn ya
Your wife, your friends, your kids come to mourn ya
Don't fuck with the boy, I tried to warn ya

Where the fuck is my bread (Where it at nigga)
Mu'fucka, I'll bust yo' head (Bust ya shit)
Fill ya fuckin' ass up with lead
Heard through the grapevine, you working for the feds
(That's what I heard dog)
I'm 'bout to put Harlem on the map
Pop the trunk of the Jag and put your father in the back
We hoggin' in the back
You niggas eat real good in the front row while niggas starvin' in the back
We mobbin' in the back
Gun cocked, jewels off, robbin' in the back
Kill a white bitch while she joggin' in the back
Open up your mouth, come slob a nigga's sack, bitch
Max spit hard, the nigga rap
Sawed-off shotgun, revolve a nigga clap
All off hot one, dissolve a nigga fat
All off hot ones, resolve a nigga's ass
Yeah, talk to 'em nigga

I gets high and abusive
Got a brand-new hammer and I'm dyin' to use it
We kill a nigga softly, get a nigga off me
Slap his tray on the floor and spill a nigga coffee
I got faith in this man, but will he ever cross me
Will he ever get up the gall and try to off me
I ain't waiting on this nigga to do me
I'm a do him like Nino did to G-Money in the movie
One in his head on the roof
The god blow back and kick bread on the stoop
Infrared on your shoot
Little small dots be resemblin' the circus
Dissembling your surface
I don't know which emblem to purchase
I'm a household name, a good friend of the Burton's
And all my lil' niggas is deices
Strap 'em up with C-4s and send 'em in the precinct

Niggas saying Harlem ain't hot, don't get popped
Nigga our gun talk
Cop drops from cocaine rocks
Gun spark, Glock cocked, burners from Bangkok
Turn your mink into a Hulkamania tanktop (Damn)
I'm a fan on the low, I like dudes
Floss chain bigger like 60 ice cubes
I can't predict my future
But before I go back to the pen my bitch'll shoot ya
I don't mean to confuse ya
You got a good song, that don't mean you're the future (nope)
You got a good song, think you the bomb
Dogs I'll defuse ya
Post up with the ball, back down and use ya
Post up with the .4, clap clowns, abuse 'em
Gat sounds amusing, smackdown, remove 'em
Nigga we'll lose ya (yeah)
Keep ya fresh, put your body with the brew in the cooler
Holla back, yes

Yeah, tried to warn you niggas man
Now y'all gotta learn the hard way
Fuck it, 'bout to just take this shit all off
Y'all can't stop me nigga
Your Boss Don Biggaveli
You niggas fall back
Gang Greene, Byrdgang bitch
Let's get this money
The game is all mines man
All mine

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