Lyrics Max Pain - Larry June

Max Pain - Larry June
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Max Pain, artist - Larry June. Album song Good Job Larry, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 07.09.2015
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: The Freeminded
Song language: English

Max Pain

Choppa by the mothafuckin' night stand, god damn, aye, shit
I think I’m Max Paine
I got two 4−5's when I slide mane, god damn, aye, shit
I feel like Max Paine
I got dope
I got dope
I got dope
Riding round bussin hella jugs
Hit my line bitch it’s hella good
He a snitch I always knew he would
Smoke so much I make my own kush
I see you talking you ain’t bout nothing
You don’t really want them problems boy
Got a bad bitch overseas
Pussy sweeter than an Almond Joy
Ain’t nobody really fucking with me
Underrated like a motherfucker
Manipulation at an all high
Finesse the bitch for a gold Hummer
I’ve been balling hard four summers
Before then I was going broke
But I always had a vision hoe
I might buy that bitch a mink coat
Purified water when I sip
My white bitch keep my blunt lit
My wrist 5 plus 5
Yeah my wrist on 10
Fuck niggas man they all hate
They in my pockets tryna calculate
I don’t ever play the back page
30 rounds with the mac spray
Real nigga since day one
Always looking out for my fam
Pillow talking to the punk bitch
But I don’t ever understand it
I fuck with Maco that’s my brother
Presidential with the bezzle
That’s a hood nigga gold medal
Aye aye aye
I heard you niggas buying pussy
Bullshitting fake pimping
Broke nigga fake lean sipping
Never ever had a ring
Speaking on the young god
Make me wanna go slide
Man down homicide
Bust a Glock to the side
I would never ever panic
Hundred round clip banana
Fiji water in my cup of noodles
Damn a nigga living lavish
I don’t got no time to hang
Less a nigga getting paid
Beat the pussy out the frame
Never call the bitch again
All black when I mob
Cuban link be the chain
Got a grey bimmer coupe
And a jeweler named Ray
She fuck with me she got taste
5k for the vase
Got my crib looking player
Busting bands on La Brea
Everything ain’t what it seem
You bought the bitch some fake Celine
Then wonder why she paying me
Now you’re back to breaking down quarter P’s
Gave that hoe a better situation
Told her getting money obligation
I remember trapping off the radar
Now I’m shopping for an i7

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Artist lyrics: Larry June