| You know one thing I hate
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| It’s when a person come up to me
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| Or I hear somebody say «it must be nice»
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| You know my answer that
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| Is «You must me a hater»
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| Tell me why you mad for
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| Listen Luda we gotta keep it real boy
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| We gonna do it like this baby
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| Listen here you know what I’m saying
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| Tell me what they mad for
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| Come around the hood
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| See us sitting there looking good
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| Tell me what they mad for
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| Cause you be on the radio
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| Sounding like you made a million dollars
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| Tell me what they mad for
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| Time to start putting grown-ass men on time out
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| Go to the corner and cry somehwere man
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| Old insecure ass nigga
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| Your heart pump Kool-Aid man
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| What you mad at me for
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| Is it cause I got houses on every coast
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| Or that I’m on that Forbes list making rich rappers look broke
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| While they’re blowing that smoke
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| I’m blowing a couple million
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| Making a killing stunting on impostors
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| Only rapper in the game with a grammy and an oscar
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| 7-figure movie deals, 8 figure bank runs
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| And I’m still feeding the same hood that I came from
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| Any car that you got i’ve altready drove
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| Any chick that you hit, nigga I’ve already ho’d
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| Say it with your chest like these diamonds on my tongue
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| Name on my headphones, label tatted on my arm
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| Air traffic control say «Ludacris is insane»
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| That niggas daughter’s birthday’s the tail number on his plane
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| Fuck with me but nobody’s fucking with me
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| Take in the sight of my cognac, more millions
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| Real G’s chug it with me
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| If I’m happy there’s no reason you should be sad for
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| So will somebody, can somebody please…
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| Ha!
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| Is you niggas hating 'cause you mad
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| Or is you mad 'cause you hating?
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| Choose one, hater
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| Now if these niggas hating on me I’mma kill them dead
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| If I wasn’t rapping I’d be probably be in the fifth
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| In the cell, getting mail, with a million dollar bail
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| But instead of counting blues, I’mma take this YSL
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| And this Gucci, and this Louis, Prada 'cause I’m hotter
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| I used to ball in Philly, with that nina and get dollars
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| I beefs up in my Bimmer, check aboard my collar
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| And when I check my bank account
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| I’m checking for them commas
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| I’m like all these niggas haters, all these bitches fucking
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| At 24 I went and bought a Ghost like it was nothing
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| At 25 I bought that Aston Martin, now we stunting
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| And you nigga still talking all this money shit you bluffing
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| You bluffing, you bluffing, I really think you bluffing
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| 100,000 dollars man them bottles we just crush ‘em
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| Now tell me why you hating? |
| You hating 'cause you mad?
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| Or is you mad because you hating, boy you sad
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| Ok, I see why you mad, I’m counting all this money
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| And I’m popping all these tags
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| Hopping to it, Fucking bunnies
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| Real nigga, One hundred
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| You trying to do it, I done it
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| I spit sick on this rap shit
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| Make them sick to they stomach
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| I’m clean man, you hate
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| Mad 'cause I’m gonna keep it real with a real nigga
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| I got racks on racks, and a black maybach
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| Call it black on black, cause I kill niggas
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| In the club all girls, no niggas don’t talk to me
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| ‘Cause I ain’t really trynna hear niggas
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| In the coupe it’s the truth
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| And the roof go poof, vamoose
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| I can make it disappear nigga
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| See this the type of shit that I be saying
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| Just because I’m balling, that don’t mean a nigga playing
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| Haters can blow me like a fan
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| Flyer than a bitch, I don’t think I’mma ever land
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| But in the meantime, baby what’s your plan
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| You can call me daddy but I can’t be your man
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| Fiending like the addicts, when I pull it out they panic
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| Bitch I do damage, you gonna need an ambulance
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| Showtime
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| Put one hand in the air if you know somebody
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| That’s mad at you right now for no reason
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| Riding around in my jeep
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| Bumping that 2pac
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| I’m walking around in my hood
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| Cocked back two Glocks
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| 98 in my status
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| I came back I’m the baddest
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| Christian’s on my feet
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| I told you I’m the baddest
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| All the way in Paris
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| Don’t talk you’ll get embarrassed
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| My watch is fucking…
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| Yeah you get embarassed
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| My life is just Ludacris
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| Sucka you just new to this
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| 430s pulling up
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| God damn we do this shit
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| Chickens and the waffles
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| Chilling in the villa
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| Bumping Ludaversal
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| Getting that scrilla
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| Yuck!
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| Hey Luda, you know why these haters mad for right?
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| The truth shall set you free
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| If you sellin' all the records and you fuckin' all the bitches
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| And you sit a top of the charts and you livin' out your wishes
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| With your chains all smothered and your watches all glittered
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| And your ghost and your phantoms all comin' home to visit
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| Or maybe cause your bitches was never really your bitches
|
| With your baby mama fucking every rapper in the business
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| Niggas saying you was better when the drugs was in your system
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| Now your crack swag gone ever since you came from prison
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| Got you tweeting all stupid, is you skatin', is you dissin'
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| Found out your Ghost leased and your Phantom just rented
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| Won’t need it in your name like Pac when he went missing
|
| Makaveli lives on so I’m riding on you bitches
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| Hail Mary be the witness, Lord Willin' I was dealing
|
| Stupid motherfucking five star, tatted on his ceiling
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| Bullseye, be the motherfucking target for this killing
|
| Ain’t y’all the motherfuckers with the millions? |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Mad Fo , by - Meek Mill. Song from the album Unreleased Killadelphia Muzik, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп