max b – deez my streets lyrics
hook:
deez my streets, deez my corners
f-ckin’ with max b n-gg-, you’s a goner
bullets in yo’ -ss like heat from the sauna
jeeps run up on ya
peeps with them heats in them jeeps that’ll scorn ya
mom duke, pop duke, dressed in black suits, at your wake
come to mourn ya… your wife, your friends, your kids come to mourn ya
don’t f-ck with the boy, i tried to warn ya
verse 1:
where the f-ck is my bread (where it at n-gg-)
mu’f-cka, i’ll bust yo’ head (bust ya sh-t)
fill ya f-ckin’ -ss 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 n-gg-z eat real good in the front row while n-gg-z starvin’ in the back
we mobbin’ in the back
gun c-cked, jewels off, robbin’ in the back
kill a white b-tch while she joggin’ in the back
open up your mouth, come slob a n-gg-‘s sack, b-tch
max spit hard, the n-gg- rap
sawed-off shotgun, revolver n-gg- clap
all off hot one, dissolve a n-gg- fat
all off hot ones, resolve a n-gg-‘s -ss
yeah, talk to ’em n-gg-
hook
verse 2:
i gets high and abusive
got a brand-new hammer and i’m dyin’ to use it
we kill a n-gg- softly, get a n-gg- off me
slap his tray on the floor and spill a n-gg- coffee
i got faith in this man, but will he ever cross me
will he ever get up to gone and try to off me
i ain’t waiting on this n-gg- to do me
i’ma 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’ n-gg-z is deices
strap ’em up with c-4s and send ’em in the precinct
hook
verse 3:
n-gg-z saying harlem ain’t hot, don’t get popped
n-gg- our gun talk
cop drops from cocaine rocks
gun spark, glock c-cked, burners from bangkok
turn your man into a hulkamania tanktop (d-mn)
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 b-tch’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 out to fuse 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
n-gg- we’ll lose ya (yeah)
keep ya fresh, put your body with the brew in the cooler
holla back, yes
hook
yeah, tried to warn you n-gg-z man
now y’all gotta learn the hard way
f-ck it, ’bout to just take this sh-t all off
y’all can’t stop me n-gg-
your boss don biggaveli
you n-gg-z fall back
gang greene, byrdgang b-tch
let’s get this money
the game is all mines man
all mine
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