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itsmanman - mad max lyrics

[intro]
ayy

[chorus]
i ain’t finna box, n+gga, this ain’t fed+ex
i ain’t worried ’bout that b+tch, she just a mad ex
my aim is impeccable, i’m aimin’ for his head next
ak on my back with double straps, i look like mad max, hm

[verse]
talkin’ to my shooter, he from baghdad
you went from a thug n+gga to a hashtag
beat his ass, then cut his body up, he in a trash bag
thick b+tch, and her head fly, she got me jet lagged
ooh, how the f+ck i’m still alive and i ain’t got no heart?
how you n+ggas got some heaters and don’t never spark?
man, these n+ggas swear they demons, never in the dark
sn+tch a n+gga chain, look like my lawnmower won’t never start
you like captain save+a+ho, shoutout e+40
i won’t ever save these hoes, i’m from detroit
makin’ money, but i cannot stop until i see more
b+tch, get away from me, i’m blowin’ up just like some c+4
mm, these ain’t blood on my shoes, these some louboutins
bullets penetrate a n+gga with no lubricant
i’m like who and he like, “who is you?” b+tch, i’m a hooligan
get out the way, i’m finna roll out, b+tch, i feel like ludacris like hook
just like that thing that hang off your jacket, b+tch, i’m hood
ain’t never need my pops to check up on me, boy, i’m good
they like, “why your shoes dirty?” ’cause i got it out the mud
bro got 40, i got forty+two on me, i feel like dugg
put him on a tee, i ain’t talkin’ ’bout grizzley
they wishin’ death upon me, a n+gga feel like 50
an f&n [?] in a f+150
chest shots, hollow ate his kidneys
hm, i ain’t got a soul, so i ain’t trippin’ on no [?]
them n+ggas took your poles, so how you call yourself a thug?
you sold your mans a pen and now you say you sellin’ drugs?
n+gga said it’s on the floor, i got him wrapped up in a rug
jumpin’ who? reach in my shoe, i’ll stab n+ggas
you got a rollie, i got heart, b+tch, i brag different
nike duffel, gucci luggage, b+tch, my bag better
you was just with him, doin’ all that dissin’, now your mans missin’
tryna put my n+ggas on, i wanna eat with ’em
you treat your n+ggas like your rivals, why compete with ’em?
you came in without a wrist, i’m tryna teach n+ggas
you not in the streets, just on the streets, boy, go get deep in ’em
n+ggas dyin’ every day, this sh+t ain’t nothin’ new
load the chop and put that b+tch right in front of you
i want some twins, tell them lil’ hoes to come in twos
b+tch, i’ve been the stepper, i ain’t never wore no runnin’ shoes
they was sleepin’ on the kid, tell ’em, “wake up”
n+gga, put that phone down, pick some pape’ up
have you ever seen a n+gga have his drac’ tucked?
ar with the blade, f+ck around and get your face cut
[chorus]
i ain’t finna box, n+gga, this ain’t fed+ex
i ain’t worried ’bout that b+tch, she just a mad ex
my aim is impeccable, i’m aimin’ for his head next
ak on my back with double straps, i look like mad max, hm

[outro]
i ain’t finna box, n+gga, this ain’t fed+ex
i ain’t worried ’bout that b+tch, she just a mad ex
my aim is impeccable, i’m aimin’ for his head next
ak on my back with double straps, i look like mad max, hm
talkin’ to my shooter, he from baghdad
you went from a thug n+gga to a hashtag
beat his ass, then cut his body up, he in a trash bag
thick b+tch, and her head fly, she got me jet lagged

- itsmanman lyrics

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