[{"id":23961739,"name":"Deez My Streets","trackName":"Deez My Streets","artistName":"Max B","albumName":"Library of a Legend, Vol. 11","duration":244.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Deez my streets, deez my corners\nFuckin' with Max B nigga, you's a goner\nBullets in yo' ass like heat from the sauna\nJeeps run up on ya\nPeeps with them heats in them jeeps that'll scorn ya\nMomdukers, popdukes,\nDress up, black suit, at your wake tend to mourn ya\nYour wife, your friends, your kids come to mourn ya\nDon't fuck with the boy, I tried to warn ya\nWhere the fuck is my bread, where it at nigga\nMu'fucka, I'll bust yo' head (Bust ya shit)\nFill ya fuckin' ass up with lead\nHeard through the grapevine, you working for the feds\n(That's what I heard dog)\nI'm 'bout to put Harlem on the map\nPop the trunk of the Jag and put your father in the back\nWe hoggin' in the back\nYou niggas eat real good in the front row while niggas starving in the back\nWe mobbin in the back\nGun cocked, jewels off, robbin' in the back\nKill a white bitch while she joggin' in the back\nOpen up your mouth, come slob a nigga's sack, bitch\nMax spit hard, the nigga rap\nSawed-off shotgun, revolve a nigga clap\nAll off hot one, dissolve a nigga fat\nAll off hot ones, resolve a nigga's ass\nYeah, talk to 'em nigga\nDeez my streets, deez my corners\nFuckin' with Max B nigga, you's a goner\nBullets in yo' ass like heat from the sauna\nJeeps run up on ya\nPeeps with them heats in them jeeps that'll scorn ya\nMomdukers, popdukes,\nDress up, black suit, at your wake tend to mourn ya\nYour wife, your friends, your kids come to mourn ya\nDon't fuck with the boy, I tried to warn ya\nI gets high and abusive\nGot a brand-new hammer and I'm dyin' to use it\nWe kill a nigga softly, get a nigga off me\nSlap his tray on the floor and spill a nigga coffee\nI got faith in this man, but will he ever cross me\nWill he ever get up the gall and try to off me\nI ain't waiting on this nigga to do me\nI'm a do him like Nino did to G-Money in the movie\nOne in his head on the roof\nThe god blow back and kick bread on the stoop\nInfrared on your shoot\nLittle small dots be resemblin' the circus\nDissembling your surface\nI don't know which emblem to purchase\nI'm a household name, a good friend of the Burton's\nAnd all my lil' niggas is deices\nStrap 'em up with C-4s and send 'em in the precinct\nDeez my streets, deez my corners\nFuckin' with Max B nigga, you's a goner\nBullets in yo' ass like heat from the sauna\nJeeps run up on ya\nPeeps with them heats in them jeeps that'll scorn ya\nMomdukers, popdukes,\nDress up, black suit, at your wake tend to mourn ya\nYour wife, your friends, your kids come to mourn ya\nDon't fuck with the boy, I tried to warn ya\nNiggas saying Harlem ain't hot, don't get popped\nNigga our gun talk\nCop drops from cocaine rocks\nGun spark, Glock cocked, burners from Bangkok\nTurn your mink into a Hulkamania tanktop (Damn)\nI'm a fan on the low, I like dudes\nFloss chain bigger like 60 ice cubes\nI can't predict my future\nBut before I go back to the pen my bitch'll shoot ya\nI don't mean to confuse ya\nYou got a good song, that don't mean you're the future (nope)\nYou got a good song, think you the bomb\nDogs I'll defuse ya\nPost up with the ball, back down and use ya\nPost up with the .4, clap clowns, abuse 'em\nGat sounds amusing, smackdown, remove 'em\nNigga we'll lose ya (yeah)\nKeep ya fresh, put your body with the brew in the cooler\nHolla back, yes\nDeez my streets, deez my corners\nFuckin' with Max B nigga, you's a goner\nBullets in yo' ass like heat from the sauna\nJeeps run up on ya\nPeeps with them heats in them jeeps that'll scorn ya\nMomdukers, popdukes,\nDress up, black suit, at your wake tend to mourn ya\nYour wife, your friends, your kids come to mourn ya\nDon't fuck with the boy, I tried to warn ya\nYeah, tried to warn you niggas man\nNow y'all gotta learn the hard way\nFuck it, 'bout to just take this shit all off\nY'all can't stop me nigga\nYour Boss Don Biggaveli\nYou niggas fall back\nGang Greene, Byrdgang bitch\nLet's get this money\nThe game is all mines man\nAll mine","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Deez My Streets\n  artist: Max B\n  album: Library of a Legend, Vol. 11\n  duration_ms: 244000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Deez my streets, deez my corners\n  Fuckin' with Max B nigga, you's a goner\n  Bullets in yo' ass like heat from the sauna\n  Jeeps run up on ya\n  Peeps with them heats in them jeeps that'll scorn ya\n  Momdukers, popdukes,\n  Dress up, black suit, at your wake tend to mourn ya\n  Your wife, your friends, your kids come to mourn ya\n  Don't fuck with the boy, I tried to warn ya\n  Where the fuck is my bread, where it at nigga\n  Mu'fucka, I'll bust yo' head (Bust ya shit)\n  Fill ya fuckin' ass up with lead\n  Heard through the grapevine, you working for the feds\n  (That's what I heard dog)\n  I'm 'bout to put Harlem on the map\n  Pop the trunk of the Jag and put your father in the back\n  We hoggin' in the back\n  You niggas eat real good in the front row while niggas starving in the back\n  We mobbin in the back\n  Gun cocked, jewels off, robbin' in the back\n  Kill a white bitch while she joggin' in the back\n  Open up your mouth, come slob a nigga's sack, bitch\n  Max spit hard, the nigga rap\n  Sawed-off shotgun, revolve a nigga clap\n  All off hot one, dissolve a nigga fat\n  All off hot ones, resolve a nigga's ass\n  Yeah, talk to 'em nigga\n  Deez my streets, deez my corners\n  Fuckin' with Max B nigga, you's a goner\n  Bullets in yo' ass like heat from the sauna\n  Jeeps run up on ya\n  Peeps with them heats in them jeeps that'll scorn ya\n  Momdukers, popdukes,\n  Dress up, black suit, at your wake tend to mourn ya\n  Your wife, your friends, your kids come to mourn ya\n  Don't fuck with the boy, I tried to warn ya\n  I gets high and abusive\n  Got a brand-new hammer and I'm dyin' to use it\n  We kill a nigga softly, get a nigga off me\n  Slap his tray on the floor and spill a nigga coffee\n  I got faith in this man, but will he ever cross me\n  Will he ever get up the gall and try to off me\n  I ain't waiting on this nigga to do me\n  I'm a do him like Nino did to G-Money in the movie\n  One in his head on the roof\n  The god blow back and kick bread on the stoop\n  Infrared on your shoot\n  Little small dots be resemblin' the circus\n  Dissembling your surface\n  I don't know which emblem to purchase\n  I'm a household name, a good friend of the Burton's\n  And all my lil' niggas is deices\n  Strap 'em up with C-4s and send 'em in the precinct\n  Deez my streets, deez my corners\n  Fuckin' with Max B nigga, you's a goner\n  Bullets in yo' ass like heat from the sauna\n  Jeeps run up on ya\n  Peeps with them heats in them jeeps that'll scorn ya\n  Momdukers, popdukes,\n  Dress up, black suit, at your wake tend to mourn ya\n  Your wife, your friends, your kids come to mourn ya\n  Don't fuck with the boy, I tried to warn ya\n  Niggas saying Harlem ain't hot, don't get popped\n  Nigga our gun talk\n  Cop drops from cocaine rocks\n  Gun spark, Glock cocked, burners from Bangkok\n  Turn your mink into a Hulkamania tanktop (Damn)\n  I'm a fan on the low, I like dudes\n  Floss chain bigger like 60 ice cubes\n  I can't predict my future\n  But before I go back to the pen my bitch'll shoot ya\n  I don't mean to confuse ya\n  You got a good song, that don't mean you're the future (nope)\n  You got a good song, think you the bomb\n  Dogs I'll defuse ya\n  Post up with the ball, back down and use ya\n  Post up with the .4, clap clowns, abuse 'em\n  Gat sounds amusing, smackdown, remove 'em\n  Nigga we'll lose ya (yeah)\n  Keep ya fresh, put your body with the brew in the cooler\n  Holla back, yes\n  Deez my streets, deez my corners\n  Fuckin' with Max B nigga, you's a goner\n  Bullets in yo' ass like heat from the sauna\n  Jeeps run up on ya\n  Peeps with them heats in them jeeps that'll scorn ya\n  Momdukers, popdukes,\n  Dress up, black suit, at your wake tend to mourn ya\n  Your wife, your friends, your kids come to mourn ya\n  Don't fuck with the boy, I tried to warn ya\n  Yeah, tried to warn you niggas man\n  Now y'all gotta learn the hard way\n  Fuck it, 'bout to just take this shit all off\n  Y'all can't stop me nigga\n  Your Boss Don Biggaveli\n  You niggas fall back\n  Gang Greene, Byrdgang bitch\n  Let's get this money\n  The game is all mines man\n  All mine\n"},{"id":26071982,"name":"Deez My Streets","trackName":"Deez My Streets","artistName":"Max B.","albumName":"Million Dollar Baby Radio (Hosted By Big Mike)","duration":249.469388,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Deez my streets, deez my corners\nFuckin' with Max B nigga, you's a goner\nBullets in yo' ass like heat from the sauna\nJeeps run up on ya\nPeeps with them heats in them jeeps that'll scorn ya\nMomdukers, popdukes,\nDress up, black suit, at your wake tend to mourn ya\nYour wife, your friends, your kids come to mourn ya\nDon't fuck with the boy, I tried to warn ya\nWhere the fuck is my bread, where it at nigga\nMu'fucka, I'll bust yo' head (Bust ya shit)\nFill ya fuckin' ass up with lead\nHeard through the grapevine, you working for the feds\n(That's what I heard dog)\nI'm 'bout to put Harlem on the map\nPop the trunk of the Jag and put your father in the back\nWe hoggin' in the back\nYou niggas eat real good in the front row while niggas starving in the back\nWe mobbin in the back\nGun cocked, jewels off, robbin' in the back\nKill a white bitch while she joggin' in the back\nOpen up your mouth, come slob a nigga's sack, bitch\nMax spit hard, the nigga rap\nSawed-off shotgun, revolve a nigga clap\nAll off hot one, dissolve a nigga fat\nAll off hot ones, resolve a nigga's ass\nYeah, talk to 'em nigga\nDeez my streets, deez my corners\nFuckin' with Max B nigga, you's a goner\nBullets in yo' ass like heat from the sauna\nJeeps run up on ya\nPeeps with them heats in them jeeps that'll scorn ya\nMomdukers, popdukes,\nDress up, black suit, at your wake tend to mourn ya\nYour wife, your friends, your kids come to mourn ya\nDon't fuck with the boy, I tried to warn ya\nI gets high and abusive\nGot a brand-new hammer and I'm dyin' to use it\nWe kill a nigga softly, get a nigga off me\nSlap his tray on the floor and spill a nigga coffee\nI got faith in this man, but will he ever cross me\nWill he ever get up the gall and try to off me\nI ain't waiting on this nigga to do me\nI'm a do him like Nino did to G-Money in the movie\nOne in his head on the roof\nThe god blow back and kick bread on the stoop\nInfrared on your shoot\nLittle small dots be resemblin' the circus\nDissembling your surface\nI don't know which emblem to purchase\nI'm a household name, a good friend of the Burton's\nAnd all my lil' niggas is deices\nStrap 'em up with C-4s and send 'em in the precinct\nDeez my streets, deez my corners\nFuckin' with Max B nigga, you's a goner\nBullets in yo' ass like heat from the sauna\nJeeps run up on ya\nPeeps with them heats in them jeeps that'll scorn ya\nMomdukers, popdukes,\nDress up, black suit, at your wake tend to mourn ya\nYour wife, your friends, your kids come to mourn ya\nDon't fuck with the boy, I tried to warn ya\nNiggas saying Harlem ain't hot, don't get popped\nNigga our gun talk\nCop drops from cocaine rocks\nGun spark, Glock cocked, burners from Bangkok\nTurn your mink into a Hulkamania tanktop (Damn)\nI'm a fan on the low, I like dudes\nFloss chain bigger like 60 ice cubes\nI can't predict my future\nBut before I go back to the pen my bitch'll shoot ya\nI don't mean to confuse ya\nYou got a good song, that don't mean you're the future (nope)\nYou got a good song, think you the bomb\nDogs I'll defuse ya\nPost up with the ball, back down and use ya\nPost up with the .4, clap clowns, abuse 'em\nGat sounds amusing, smackdown, remove 'em\nNigga we'll lose ya (yeah)\nKeep ya fresh, put your body with the brew in the cooler\nHolla back, yes\nDeez my streets, deez my corners\nFuckin' with Max B nigga, you's a goner\nBullets in yo' ass like heat from the sauna\nJeeps run up on ya\nPeeps with them heats in them jeeps that'll scorn ya\nMomdukers, popdukes,\nDress up, black suit, at your wake tend to mourn ya\nYour wife, your friends, your kids come to mourn ya\nDon't fuck with the boy, I tried to warn ya\nYeah, tried to warn you niggas man\nNow y'all gotta learn the hard way\nFuck it, 'bout to just take this shit all off\nY'all can't stop me nigga\nYour Boss Don Biggaveli\nYou niggas fall back\nGang Greene, Byrdgang bitch\nLet's get this money\nThe game is all mines man\nAll mine","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Deez My Streets\n  artist: Max B.\n  album: Million Dollar Baby Radio (Hosted By Big Mike)\n  duration_ms: 249469\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Deez my streets, deez my corners\n  Fuckin' with Max B nigga, you's a goner\n  Bullets in yo' ass like heat from the sauna\n  Jeeps run up on ya\n  Peeps with them heats in them jeeps that'll scorn ya\n  Momdukers, popdukes,\n  Dress up, black suit, at your wake tend to mourn ya\n  Your wife, your friends, your kids come to mourn ya\n  Don't fuck with the boy, I tried to warn ya\n  Where the fuck is my bread, where it at nigga\n  Mu'fucka, I'll bust yo' head (Bust ya shit)\n  Fill ya fuckin' ass up with lead\n  Heard through the grapevine, you working for the feds\n  (That's what I heard dog)\n  I'm 'bout to put Harlem on the map\n  Pop the trunk of the Jag and put your father in the back\n  We hoggin' in the back\n  You niggas eat real good in the front row while niggas starving in the back\n  We mobbin in the back\n  Gun cocked, jewels off, robbin' in the back\n  Kill a white bitch while she joggin' in the back\n  Open up your mouth, come slob a nigga's sack, bitch\n  Max spit hard, the nigga rap\n  Sawed-off shotgun, revolve a nigga clap\n  All off hot one, dissolve a nigga fat\n  All off hot ones, resolve a nigga's ass\n  Yeah, talk to 'em nigga\n  Deez my streets, deez my corners\n  Fuckin' with Max B nigga, you's a goner\n  Bullets in yo' ass like heat from the sauna\n  Jeeps run up on ya\n  Peeps with them heats in them jeeps that'll scorn ya\n  Momdukers, popdukes,\n  Dress up, black suit, at your wake tend to mourn ya\n  Your wife, your friends, your kids come to mourn ya\n  Don't fuck with the boy, I tried to warn ya\n  I gets high and abusive\n  Got a brand-new hammer and I'm dyin' to use it\n  We kill a nigga softly, get a nigga off me\n  Slap his tray on the floor and spill a nigga coffee\n  I got faith in this man, but will he ever cross me\n  Will he ever get up the gall and try to off me\n  I ain't waiting on this nigga to do me\n  I'm a do him like Nino did to G-Money in the movie\n  One in his head on the roof\n  The god blow back and kick bread on the stoop\n  Infrared on your shoot\n  Little small dots be resemblin' the circus\n  Dissembling your surface\n  I don't know which emblem to purchase\n  I'm a household name, a good friend of the Burton's\n  And all my lil' niggas is deices\n  Strap 'em up with C-4s and send 'em in the precinct\n  Deez my streets, deez my corners\n  Fuckin' with Max B nigga, you's a goner\n  Bullets in yo' ass like heat from the sauna\n  Jeeps run up on ya\n  Peeps with them heats in them jeeps that'll scorn ya\n  Momdukers, popdukes,\n  Dress up, black suit, at your wake tend to mourn ya\n  Your wife, your friends, your kids come to mourn ya\n  Don't fuck with the boy, I tried to warn ya\n  Niggas saying Harlem ain't hot, don't get popped\n  Nigga our gun talk\n  Cop drops from cocaine rocks\n  Gun spark, Glock cocked, burners from Bangkok\n  Turn your mink into a Hulkamania tanktop (Damn)\n  I'm a fan on the low, I like dudes\n  Floss chain bigger like 60 ice cubes\n  I can't predict my future\n  But before I go back to the pen my bitch'll shoot ya\n  I don't mean to confuse ya\n  You got a good song, that don't mean you're the future (nope)\n  You got a good song, think you the bomb\n  Dogs I'll defuse ya\n  Post up with the ball, back down and use ya\n  Post up with the .4, clap clowns, abuse 'em\n  Gat sounds amusing, smackdown, remove 'em\n  Nigga we'll lose ya (yeah)\n  Keep ya fresh, put your body with the brew in the cooler\n  Holla back, yes\n  Deez my streets, deez my corners\n  Fuckin' with Max B nigga, you's a goner\n  Bullets in yo' ass like heat from the sauna\n  Jeeps run up on ya\n  Peeps with them heats in them jeeps that'll scorn ya\n  Momdukers, popdukes,\n  Dress up, black suit, at your wake tend to mourn ya\n  Your wife, your friends, your kids come to mourn ya\n  Don't fuck with the boy, I tried to warn ya\n  Yeah, tried to warn you niggas man\n  Now y'all gotta learn the hard way\n  Fuck it, 'bout to just take this shit all off\n  Y'all can't stop me nigga\n  Your Boss Don Biggaveli\n  You niggas fall back\n  Gang Greene, Byrdgang bitch\n  Let's get this money\n  The game is all mines man\n  All mine\n"},{"id":25655505,"name":"Deez My Streets","trackName":"Deez My Streets","artistName":"Max B","albumName":"Wave Pack","duration":244.323265,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Deez my streets, deez my corners\nFuckin' with Max B nigga, you's a goner\nBullets in yo' ass like heat from the sauna\nJeeps run up on ya\nPeeps with them heats in them jeeps that'll scorn ya\nMomdukers, popdukes,\nDress up, black suit, at your wake tend to mourn ya\nYour wife, your friends, your kids come to mourn ya\nDon't fuck with the boy, I tried to warn ya\nWhere the fuck is my bread, where it at nigga\nMu'fucka, I'll bust yo' head (Bust ya shit)\nFill ya fuckin' ass up with lead\nHeard through the grapevine, you working for the feds\n(That's what I heard dog)\nI'm 'bout to put Harlem on the map\nPop the trunk of the Jag and put your father in the back\nWe hoggin' in the back\nYou niggas eat real good in the front row while niggas starving in the back\nWe mobbin in the back\nGun cocked, jewels off, robbin' in the back\nKill a white bitch while she joggin' in the back\nOpen up your mouth, come slob a nigga's sack, bitch\nMax spit hard, the nigga rap\nSawed-off shotgun, revolve a nigga clap\nAll off hot one, dissolve a nigga fat\nAll off hot ones, resolve a nigga's ass\nYeah, talk to 'em nigga\nDeez my streets, deez my corners\nFuckin' with Max B nigga, you's a goner\nBullets in yo' ass like heat from the sauna\nJeeps run up on ya\nPeeps with them heats in them jeeps that'll scorn ya\nMomdukers, popdukes,\nDress up, black suit, at your wake tend to mourn ya\nYour wife, your friends, your kids come to mourn ya\nDon't fuck with the boy, I tried to warn ya\nI gets high and abusive\nGot a brand-new hammer and I'm dyin' to use it\nWe kill a nigga softly, get a nigga off me\nSlap his tray on the floor and spill a nigga coffee\nI got faith in this man, but will he ever cross me\nWill he ever get up the gall and try to off me\nI ain't waiting on this nigga to do me\nI'm a do him like Nino did to G-Money in the movie\nOne in his head on the roof\nThe god blow back and kick bread on the stoop\nInfrared on your shoot\nLittle small dots be resemblin' the circus\nDissembling your surface\nI don't know which emblem to purchase\nI'm a household name, a good friend of the Burton's\nAnd all my lil' niggas is deices\nStrap 'em up with C-4s and send 'em in the precinct\nDeez my streets, deez my corners\nFuckin' with Max B nigga, you's a goner\nBullets in yo' ass like heat from the sauna\nJeeps run up on ya\nPeeps with them heats in them jeeps that'll scorn ya\nMomdukers, popdukes,\nDress up, black suit, at your wake tend to mourn ya\nYour wife, your friends, your kids come to mourn ya\nDon't fuck with the boy, I tried to warn ya\nNiggas saying Harlem ain't hot, don't get popped\nNigga our gun talk\nCop drops from cocaine rocks\nGun spark, Glock cocked, burners from Bangkok\nTurn your mink into a Hulkamania tanktop (Damn)\nI'm a fan on the low, I like dudes\nFloss chain bigger like 60 ice cubes\nI can't predict my future\nBut before I go back to the pen my bitch'll shoot ya\nI don't mean to confuse ya\nYou got a good song, that don't mean you're the future (nope)\nYou got a good song, think you the bomb\nDogs I'll defuse ya\nPost up with the ball, back down and use ya\nPost up with the .4, clap clowns, abuse 'em\nGat sounds amusing, smackdown, remove 'em\nNigga we'll lose ya (yeah)\nKeep ya fresh, put your body with the brew in the cooler\nHolla back, yes\nDeez my streets, deez my corners\nFuckin' with Max B nigga, you's a goner\nBullets in yo' ass like heat from the sauna\nJeeps run up on ya\nPeeps with them heats in them jeeps that'll scorn ya\nMomdukers, popdukes,\nDress up, black suit, at your wake tend to mourn ya\nYour wife, your friends, your kids come to mourn ya\nDon't fuck with the boy, I tried to warn ya\nYeah, tried to warn you niggas man\nNow y'all gotta learn the hard way\nFuck it, 'bout to just take this shit all off\nY'all can't stop me nigga\nYour Boss Don Biggaveli\nYou niggas fall back\nGang Greene, Byrdgang bitch\nLet's get this money\nThe game is all mines man\nAll mine","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Deez My Streets\n  artist: Max B\n  album: Wave Pack\n  duration_ms: 244323\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Deez my streets, deez my corners\n  Fuckin' with Max B nigga, you's a goner\n  Bullets in yo' ass like heat from the sauna\n  Jeeps run up on ya\n  Peeps with them heats in them jeeps that'll scorn ya\n  Momdukers, popdukes,\n  Dress up, black suit, at your wake tend to mourn ya\n  Your wife, your friends, your kids come to mourn ya\n  Don't fuck with the boy, I tried to warn ya\n  Where the fuck is my bread, where it at nigga\n  Mu'fucka, I'll bust yo' head (Bust ya shit)\n  Fill ya fuckin' ass up with lead\n  Heard through the grapevine, you working for the feds\n  (That's what I heard dog)\n  I'm 'bout to put Harlem on the map\n  Pop the trunk of the Jag and put your father in the back\n  We hoggin' in the back\n  You niggas eat real good in the front row while niggas starving in the back\n  We mobbin in the back\n  Gun cocked, jewels off, robbin' in the back\n  Kill a white bitch while she joggin' in the back\n  Open up your mouth, come slob a nigga's sack, bitch\n  Max spit hard, the nigga rap\n  Sawed-off shotgun, revolve a nigga clap\n  All off hot one, dissolve a nigga fat\n  All off hot ones, resolve a nigga's ass\n  Yeah, talk to 'em nigga\n  Deez my streets, deez my corners\n  Fuckin' with Max B nigga, you's a goner\n  Bullets in yo' ass like heat from the sauna\n  Jeeps run up on ya\n  Peeps with them heats in them jeeps that'll scorn ya\n  Momdukers, popdukes,\n  Dress up, black suit, at your wake tend to mourn ya\n  Your wife, your friends, your kids come to mourn ya\n  Don't fuck with the boy, I tried to warn ya\n  I gets high and abusive\n  Got a brand-new hammer and I'm dyin' to use it\n  We kill a nigga softly, get a nigga off me\n  Slap his tray on the floor and spill a nigga coffee\n  I got faith in this man, but will he ever cross me\n  Will he ever get up the gall and try to off me\n  I ain't waiting on this nigga to do me\n  I'm a do him like Nino did to G-Money in the movie\n  One in his head on the roof\n  The god blow back and kick bread on the stoop\n  Infrared on your shoot\n  Little small dots be resemblin' the circus\n  Dissembling your surface\n  I don't know which emblem to purchase\n  I'm a household name, a good friend of the Burton's\n  And all my lil' niggas is deices\n  Strap 'em up with C-4s and send 'em in the precinct\n  Deez my streets, deez my corners\n  Fuckin' with Max B nigga, you's a goner\n  Bullets in yo' ass like heat from the sauna\n  Jeeps run up on ya\n  Peeps with them heats in them jeeps that'll scorn ya\n  Momdukers, popdukes,\n  Dress up, black suit, at your wake tend to mourn ya\n  Your wife, your friends, your kids come to mourn ya\n  Don't fuck with the boy, I tried to warn ya\n  Niggas saying Harlem ain't hot, don't get popped\n  Nigga our gun talk\n  Cop drops from cocaine rocks\n  Gun spark, Glock cocked, burners from Bangkok\n  Turn your mink into a Hulkamania tanktop (Damn)\n  I'm a fan on the low, I like dudes\n  Floss chain bigger like 60 ice cubes\n  I can't predict my future\n  But before I go back to the pen my bitch'll shoot ya\n  I don't mean to confuse ya\n  You got a good song, that don't mean you're the future (nope)\n  You got a good song, think you the bomb\n  Dogs I'll defuse ya\n  Post up with the ball, back down and use ya\n  Post up with the .4, clap clowns, abuse 'em\n  Gat sounds amusing, smackdown, remove 'em\n  Nigga we'll lose ya (yeah)\n  Keep ya fresh, put your body with the brew in the cooler\n  Holla back, yes\n  Deez my streets, deez my corners\n  Fuckin' with Max B nigga, you's a goner\n  Bullets in yo' ass like heat from the sauna\n  Jeeps run up on ya\n  Peeps with them heats in them jeeps that'll scorn ya\n  Momdukers, popdukes,\n  Dress up, black suit, at your wake tend to mourn ya\n  Your wife, your friends, your kids come to mourn ya\n  Don't fuck with the boy, I tried to warn ya\n  Yeah, tried to warn you niggas man\n  Now y'all gotta learn the hard way\n  Fuck it, 'bout to just take this shit all off\n  Y'all can't stop me nigga\n  Your Boss Don Biggaveli\n  You niggas fall back\n  Gang Greene, Byrdgang bitch\n  Let's get this money\n  The game is all mines man\n  All mine\n"}]