Текст песни Mad Fo - Ludacris , Pusha T , Meek Mill

You know one thing I hate?
It's when a person come up to me or I hear somebody say "It must be nice"
You know my answer that is "You must be a hater"
Tell me why you mad fo'
Listen here Luda, we gotta keep it real boy, we gonna do it like this baby
Listen here, you know what I'm saying?
Tell me what they mad fo', come around the hood
See us sitting there looking good
Tell me what they mad fo' cause you be on the radio
Sounding like you made a million dollars
Tell me what they mad fo'
Time to start putting grown-ass men on time out
Go to the corner and cry somewhere man
Old insecure ass nigga, yo heart pump Kool-Aid man
What you mad at me for? Luda
Is it cause I got houses on every coast
Or that I'm on that Forbes list making rich rappers look broke
While they're blowing that smoke, I'm blowing a couple million making a killing stunting on impostors
Only rapper in the game with a Grammy and an Oscar
7-figure movie deals, 8 figure bank runs
And I'm still feeding the same hood that I came from
Any car that you got I've already drove
Any chick that you hit, my nigga I've already ho'd
Say it with your chest like these diamonds on my charm
Name on my headphones, label tatted on my arm
Air traffic control say "Ludacris is insane"
That niggas daughter's birthday's the tail number on his plane
Fuck with me but nobody's fucking with me
Taking a shot of my cognac, more millions - real G's chug it with me
If I'm happy there's no reason you should be sad for
So will somebody, can somebody please
Tell me what they mad fo', come around the hood
See us sitting there looking good
Tell me what they mad fo' cause you be on the radio
Sounding like you made a million dollars
Tell me what they mad fo'
Ha, is you niggas hating cause you mad
Or is you mad cause you hating?
Choose one, hater
Now if these niggas hating on me I'ma kill 'em dead
If I wasn't rapping I'd be probably be in the feds
In the cell, getting mail, with a million dollar bail
But instead of counting blues, I'ma take this YSL
And this Gucci, and this Louis, Prada cause I'm hotter
I used to ball in Philly, with that nina Iguodala
I beefs up in my Beamer, check aboard my collar
And when I check my bank account, I'm checking for them commas
I'm like all these niggas haters, all these bitches fucking
At 24 I went and bought a Ghost like it was nothing
At 25 I bought that Aston Martin, now we stunting
And you nigga still talking all this money shit you bluffing
You bluffing, you bluffing, I really think you bluffing
100, 000 dollars magnum bottles we just crush 'em
Now tell me why you hating? You hating cause you mad?
Or is you mad because you hating? Boy you sad
Tell me what they mad fo', come around the hood
See us sitting there looking good
Tell me what they mad fo' cause you be on the radio
Sounding like you made a million dollars
Tell me what they mad fo'
Haha, look, yeah, okay, I see why you mad, I'm counting all this money
And I'm popping all these tags, hopping to it, fucking bunnies
Real nigga, one hundred, you tryna do it, I done it
I spit sick on this rap shit, make 'em sick to they stomach
I'm clean man, you hate, mad cause I make it keep it real with a real nigga
I got racks on racks, and a black Maybach, call it black on black cause I kill niggas
In the club all girls, no niggas don't talk to me cause I ain't really tryna hear niggas
In the coupe it's the truth and the roof go poof, vamoose, I can make it disappear nigga
See this the type of shit that I be saying
Just because I'm balling, that don't mean a nigga playing
Yup, haters can blow me like a fan
Flyer than a bitch, I don't think I'mma ever land
But in the meantime, baby what's your plan?
You can call me daddy but I can't be your man
Fiending like the addicts, when I pull it out they panic
Bitch I do damage, you gon' need an ambulance
Tell me what they mad fo', come around the hood
See us sitting there looking good
Tell me what they mad fo' cause you be on the radio
Sounding like you made a million dollars
Tell me what they mad fo'
Showtime
Put one hand in the air if you know somebody
That's mad at you right now for no reason
Riding around in my Jeep, bumping that 2Pac
I'm walking around in my hood, cocked back two Glocks
98 in my status, I came back I'm the baddest
Christian's on my feet, I told you I'm the baddest
All the way in Paris, don't talk you'll get embarrassed
My watch is fucking, yeah you get embarrassed
500 hunnid on them racks, pulled out them stacks
Niggas talking crazy, drop top Maybachs
My life is just ludicrous, sucker, you just new to this
430's pulling up, God damn we do this shit
Chickens and the waffles, chilling in the villa
Bumping Ludaversal, getting that scrilla
Tell me what they mad fo', come around the hood
See us sitting there looking good
Tell me what they mad fo' cause you be on the radio
Sounding like you made a million dollars
Tell me what they mad fo'
Yuugh
Hey Luda, you know why these haters mad for right?
The truth shall set you free
If you selling all the records and you fucking all the bitches
And you sit a top of the charts and you living out your wishes
With your chains all smothered and your watches all glittered
And your ghost and your phantoms all coming home to visit
Or maybe cause your bitches was never really your bitches
With your baby mama fucking every rapper in the business
Niggas saying you was better when the drugs was in your system
Now your crack swag gone ever since you came from prison
Got you tweeting all stupid, is you skating, is you dissing?
Found out your Ghost leased and your Phantom just rented
Won't need it in your name like Pac when he went missing
Makaveli lives on so I'm riding on you bitches
Hail Mary be the witness, Lord Willing I was dealing
Stupid motherfucking five star, tatted on his ceiling
Bullseye, be the motherfucking target for this killing
Ain't y'all the motherfuckers with the millions?
Tell me what they mad fo', come around the hood
See us sitting there looking good
Tell me what they mad fo' cause you be on the radio
Sounding like you made a million dollars
Tell me what they mad fo'