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Correct Letter To The Game Lyrics
Lyrics
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Artists: M
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Max B
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Correct Letter To The Game
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Lyrics:
Verse 1: I send niggaz to go inside ya bed The bullets will coincide wit' your body My muthafuckas will go upside ya head I be tryna control my desires: Bitches, money, and liquor Purple on the side, my dedication to niggaz They wanna follow, I ain't ready to lead When it was time to pop off I was ready to breeze But there was some'n in my soul that was telling me to squeeze Seen him dead, laying different, I knew he couldn't breathe Nigga you fuckin' wit' a G My alias Biggavel' Better ride your own wave, I got bitches to feel Bring my people out the hood Drop a few on the scale Even brought a couple niggaz that was ruthless up in jail* Heard a story 'bout my nigga Who would knew he would tell It's cuz of you bitch that my nigga in jail Federales came through the fuckin' pen Tried to shoot me a L Got me stuck, tryna recruit me to tell Hook: You told me you need me, ow You told me you loved me, ow This my letter to the game Why'd you lie to me I let you ride for free Things ain't the same She said you better take me back You better cut me slack Max, ow You also said 'til death do us part you will never walk away Verse 2: Take a look at the matter, it's so edgy Take a look at my swagger, I'm so ready Take my picture, I'm bad and I'm so heavy I'm so ready, ready for the game Slick-talker, I ain't have to trick 'fetti for ya dame Bitches, they tell me I look good, I'm s*** in the Range It's like I'm cruising jet skis in the lane If the water wasn't frozen you could ski off the chain Muthafucka, I'm still here, like a 3 off the brain Make a lil' some'n, I could still eat off of 'caine I don't need you, I'm cakey up in the innie I'm the Boss Don bitch, I wear the pants in the family Naw, I ain't content with being rich, and I'm good I love my niggaz cuz they treat me like Richie in the hood With Max B, you gon' know I'm with chips up in the hood Stack keys, stack cheese, that grip up in the hood Hook Verse 3: Fuck the police, coming straight from the streets Fulla crack, a young nigga gotta bag cuz he black Gotta bag cuz he whack Feds caught him slippin', got a pass cuz he rap The boy Max home and I'm glad that he back Glad that he focus now, glad that he rap I seen him Hummer-stuntin' in that bad Cadillac Pops tryna flea the game but they drag daddy back I'll put your body parts in them Glad baggie sacks Nigga the Dips come through in the latest toys You fuckin' with them boys I'm the realest nigga out Load, c*** back, time to air this nigga out No, uh-uh, I ain't tryna feel this nigga out I ain't tryna meet at the table and hear this nigga out Tryna clear this nigga out Put the gun to his chin and air it in his mouth Hook
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