Lyrics Mad Ting, Sad Ting - Fekky, Section Boyz

Mad Ting, Sad Ting

Yeah, they don’t want no smoke, they don’t want no smoke
Yeah, they don’t want no smoke, they don’t want no smoke
Yeah, let me show 'em how to make a banger
Say they do it like me?
You’re a bloody liar
It’s a madting, sadting
My brudda it’s a madting, sadting
It’s a madting, sadting
My brudda it’s a madting, sadting
Madting, sadting
Can’t mix up the road ting and rap ting
'Cause them niggas on the road darg, are ratting
And them niggas in the rap ting, are acting
Ay cuz it’s a madting, sadting
I walk up in the dance darg, with mad bling
And we ain’t inna scuffing or fighting
It be straight thunder and lightning
Catch 'em in my black ting, my white ting
With my shirt shoes, the right ting
Tell them niggas «low me, I’m flexing»
I ain’t in the Porsche cuz I’m in a next ting
It’s a madting, sadting
It’s a madting, sadting
It’s a madting, sadting
It’s a madting, sadting
Trap ting, packaging
Sellotape in this wrap ting, these man will sing
Extra lips on the strap yeah, won’t hear a thing
Bada bing in the trap yeah, tell 'em «bank the things»
Mana still doing map bare, me and B Wiz
Fuck your gyal bare, no policing
Rob a brick then I take a shit, man I take the piss
Now to him, 'cause I like his chick, better light a spliff
Man bag with a hand ting, sadting
Bu bu bang no adlib, make your hat flip
Steak and rice for Patrick, madting
Link your gyallie from the instagram and she’s a catfish
Take it back to the trap ting, dirty mattress
When the door knocks, hoping that it ain’t the damn pigs
Black mask in the transit doing bad shit
Now we shutting down shows, gyal give me hat quick
It’s a madting, sadting
My brudda it’s a madting, sadting
It’s a madting, sadting
My brudda it’s a madting, sadting
Ayo this ting here, madder than mad
Anything mi dash weh, nah come back
Man my ex wan press but I’m done with that
Likkle man, dun with the gun man chat
Anywhere I can go and shell it
You see dem style dere darg dem just can’t tek it
They’re like «look pon di pussy dem, how dem mek it»
Ah hard work for di whole ah mi possessions
Shotguns, handtings
He was talking hot but that relapsed him
Mana get a cheque cut or rubber band ting
Bussin out the TP’s, bussin out my banking
Niggas know in this rap ting, man are champions
Man ain’t with the clash ting, bu bu brap ting
Go on girl fanny flap drip, ‘cause my accent
You just started tryna trap now, man was trapped in
Young bruddas on the back road, tryna slam things
Your gyallie she’s a bad ting, get the bu bu bang
Man cry when the strap sings, that’s a sadting
Big Fekky and the Section yeah that’s a madting
You see me flexing with my bredrins on a gang ting
Trap wrap I get the cheques in, do the damn thing
Big smile on the skeng ting, spin a man’s grin
Peng gyal up in the hotel, she’s doing bad things
Slag ting, madting
Money in the mattress, stacking
Tryna hit a madting, with the mandem
You know it’s Shelly-Ann anywhere that man is
Smoking on this Cali weed, I’m still in London
What’s everybody talking bout, man’s just acting
Bare foreign jawns around, man’s attracting
Pull them Beamers out, that means it’s carnage
Section
It’s a madting, sadting
It’s a madting, sadting
It’s a madting, sadting
It’s a madting, sadting