Max B - Takin Pictures lyrics | LyricsFreak
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Takin Pictures Lyrics

Max B – Takin Pictures Lyrics

(Intro- Max B)
Yeah Bossed on bitch
Got the boy Mak Musard
Shout to my nigga Al Pac, whats good baby?
It's ya boy Wavie Muthafucking Crockett
You already know what it is man
Me and Mak Mustard 'bout to talk to the game
Fix some shit on you niggas
Lets go

(Verse One- Max B)
I need some white Mike that green poof Finger licking good flashing lights like I'm in Vegas
It ain't right without the Haters
Tryna see a NIgga sitting in the orange suit
Still I'm at the beaches in Miami with an orange Coupe
Barbecue Bullets cook your stomach
Get them bullets when confronted
When its beef, my niggas keeping it a hundred
I was just gonna play it for 'em way it works
Spray it just don't say it first
Niggas say that I was snitching they ain't have no paper work
They ain't have a way to work
I was in that Beamer looking good like the star I be
Hop up in this car with me
Hop on this dick let you hump it like the second grade
Pop your little cherry take you breath away
I just left a day
Now I'm back, heard you niggas talking greasy
Bout the Don, my balls is like the Holy Quran
Got a-lot of arms I could get you touched
Fuck around I hit you up Ambulance 'gon have to come and pick you up (Ow)

Yeah nigga I heard ya shit flopped
Another slow day at the office
Vigilante season we doing good over here
'Bout to buy a house we can't wait
Ay Mak Mustard talk to these bitches
Fuck with ya boy

(Verse Two- Mak Mustard)
Before you get me twisted, confused or misconstrued
I'm a grown ass man and I don't play with my tools
Nigga could lay in a pool of volley lee fuel
They say I'm vicious and cruel that's how we get to them dudes
But let me get in the mood
When it comes to this gang We ain't saltine
Eliminate the mark by all means
Drugs in the back like Wallsgreen
All fiends distressed hit 'em off with the four beam
{?} like a ball team in a stretch
We all live for the set
We bosses to cadets
Make 'em all bleed From the neck
Its gang green the reason you cut ya limbs off
Ya friends rocking they sneaks cut ya timbs off
On the bench strapped got the nerve to face Mak
Talking 'bout your fucking life like a nigga won't take that
Forensics won't trace that
A team of ? sewing ya face back
All over ya fake raps

(Interlude- Max B)
This nigga mad I'm getting money
If I was broke then I wouldn't be happy
Read the thank you's on his second album
Diary Of The Summer it says
It says Max
You're my inspiration, you're my energy
You're the Million Dollar Baby
On My Dick, certainly was
He certainly is
Auntie said I went to hard on the man woman
I was just tryna be helpful
I got the bitch some extra strengtheverdent
She can clean her fucking {?} with it
Fucking bitch with them fake ass teeth
It's gang green, vigilante season
Hey Big Mike, fuck with ya boy oh I'm pissed off now
Shit don't stop
(Ha Ha)
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