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max b – all my life lyrics

[verse 1: max b]
i got a quarter key- bout to put it on the scale
its quarters, we got yola don’t be mentioning that mail
when that brick come back i ….yell
see now we can flip these o’s. ain’t the quant-ty its quality
he so high commodity, he got nine for robbery
came home on that bail. got the city on this loopy sh-t
greasy get that hoopty quick, he gon’ make me shoot this sh-t
n-gga they ain’t been hot since i blessed the game with g’s up
n-gga won’t lift my sleeves up
baby come l1ck my p-n-s. bigga he make me c-m
max know sl-ts thats in atlanta, i got trucks thats in savanna
out that cut gotta get that bama (bama)
these n-ggas just take me light till they laying in a coma
i come play in california, oww

[chorus]
all my life
i’ma try to hit a l1ck or two
all my life
i’ma try to hit a b-tch or two
all my ice
oh the wrist is blue, who they listen to? (me)
what you want me to do?
all my life
i’ma try to hit a l1ck or two
all my life
i’ma try to hit a b-tch or two
all my ice
oh the wrist is blue, who they listen to? (me)
what you want me to do?

[verse 2: mack mustard]
n-ggas out they mind, even mentioning the team name
i’ll scr-pe g-y r, he copping fifths when the team gain
take a look at his mean chain, they dragging on the internet
ain’t k!ll a n-gga yet, he smoking weed & cigarettes
stuck with seeds and n-ggas pet. we get seed out the set
i’ll have him weaving out his ‘jects, or wherever the n-gga rep
wherever the n-gga step-
foot like a landfill, one cl1ck of the metal give your man chills
stop living for fan thrills, or see how your fans feel
when g-y r body hard. they telling your man chill
he giving your man peels, its off with your mans grill
n-ggas with ram k!lls, give a f-ck how your man feel
ya n-ggas in your fan peel, keep testing the fam we’ll..
power smoking sour, you’l be dead a couple hours
or crime scene investigators come sprinkling they’re powders
n-ggas loving the dour come f-ck with this thing of ours

[verse 3: max b]
fresh up out that gate, i can penetrate-
send one through that dome of yours
while your home watching the source awards
f-ckers got me p-ssed, thought she was a fan
bigging up my new pd3, screaming n-gga give me a cd free
bobbing off my sh-t, you and your main b-tch
tripping off s-xy love, empty slug
(?) he is such a work of art
he is known to squirt the dart. work the charts
help these b-tches get cake. see n-ggas don’t appreciate
what i do for the game, f-ck the politics
coca got a lot of it. poke it out and polish it
tell them b-tches swallow it-
gurgle it, mustard on his murder sh-t
average in 2010 on some burger sh-t
used him for all purposes, used him for all services
wipe you n-ggas down. look at mama bet she proud of me
cluttered like the lot of me, flooded like the lottery
we need power boy, dour called
tell me max i got that sour on, oww oww

- max b lyrics

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