[Intro: Max B]

Yeah Boss Don 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

Talk to 'em

[Verse 1: Max B]

I need some White and Mike, that Grand Cru

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 in a 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 'em for the way it's worth

Spray it just don't say it first

Niggas say 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 up on this dick

Let you hump it like the second grade

Pop your little cherry take your 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 alot of arms I could get you touched

Fuck around I hit you up, ambulance 'gon have to come and pick you up (Oww)

[Interlude: Max B]

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, can't wait

Hey Mak Mustard talk to these bitches

Fuck with ya boy

[Verse 2: Mak Mustard]

Before you get me twisted, confused or misconstrued

I'm a grown ass man and I don't play with my tool

Nigga could lay in a pool of volley lee fuel years out

Vicious and cruel, that's how we get to them dudes

But let me get in the mood

When it comes to this Gain Greene, saltines

Eliminate the mark by all means

Drugs in the back like Walgreens

They all fiends

Distressed hit 'em off with the four beam and step

Like a ball team in the stretch

We all live for the set

We bosses to cadets

Make 'em all bleed from the neck

Its Gain Greene, the reason you cut ya limbs off

Ya friends off, robbed them AC's and 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 morticians sewing ya face back

All over ya fake raps

[Outro: Max B]

This nigga mad I'm getting money

If I was broke the nigga would 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 and woman

I was just tryna be helpful

I got the bitch some extra strength Efferdent

She can clean her fucking furniture

Fucking bitch with them fake ass teeth

It's Gain Greene, Vigilante Season

Hey Big Mike, we got these niggas

Fuck with ya boy, oh I'm pissed off now

Shit don't stop

(Ha Ha)