Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song I Ain't Mad at You, artist - QuillyDate of issue: 20.02.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
I Ain't Mad at You |
| I ain’t mad at you, no |
| I ain’t mad at you, no |
| Why you mad at me? |
| Why you mat at me? |
| I keep droppin' back to back cuz the fans want me |
| I rap and trap, I just want my bands husky |
| I ran off on the plug, now he can’t trust me |
| I gotta line on the loud, crackers can’t hush me |
| I got my hands on that white boy; |
| Sandusky |
| I’m too legit to quit, haters can’t touch me |
| My raps coming like Revelations, you can’t rush me |
| Own a 100% of my publishing, you can’t fuck me |
| Fuck it, my feature price out your budget |
| My flows mean, I mix it clean wit (?) |
| I got so many beans in my jeans, I can’t tuck it |
| I can eat Felipe’s for weeks, nigga it’s nothin' |
| Medallion cut steak, Lobster cake wit the stuffing |
| Chicken sauteed, she keep askin' me for Nuggets |
| I should of left your ass in the hood and let you struggle |
| My youngin' on them Footballs, waiten for you to fumble |
| Quilly been wavy, them bitches follow the puddle |
| My 50s fell in love wit the 100s, I let em cuddle |
| I’ll rob my pop before I see my mom struggle |
| I seen a bird fly, I seen a 9 bubble |
| 2 Ninas rockin' your boat, they’re not Aaliyah |
| My lil cousin (?) wit the shit like Diarrhea |
| White Jag, Black insides; |
| Jungle Fever |
| Shots leave you Holy like Yeezy season; |
| no Adidas |
| Compact 40, 30 in this big pound |
| Poppin' like Chris Brown, then I split; |
| James Brown |
| Quarter brick, I’ma need a 1,000 baggies |
| You’ll be lifted like a Uber and be higher than a Taxi |
| Niggas' hatin on me? |
| I ain’t mad at you |
| When them shots Kriss-Koss, you’ll be ass backwards |
| Haha, I just left at you |
| I saw my ex lookin' stressed, threw some cash at her |
| I ain’t mad at you, no |
| I ain’t mad at you, no |
| Why you mad at me? |
| Why you mad at me? |
| My mom was on crack, my pop was on coke |
| My uncle on dope, my auntie still smoke |
| My grandma died, that’s when the family lost hope |
| I dropped out of school, I had white like the Pope |
| White man can’t jump, black man won’t vote |
| I got a whore pregant, and aborted like nope |
| She brush her teeth with my dick |
| And gargle nut like scope, I’m bout to floss on these hoes |
| I had my brother’s jeans on |
| I had my cousin’s sneaks on |
| Them light skin bad bitches used to tell me «dream on» |
| I was just about to stop, somethin' told me «keep goin» |
| I was bummy; |
| basquiat, somethin' told me «keep drawning' |
| I got them junkies cliff hangin' |
| Got them smokers rock climbin' |
| Put pressure on these niggas', buss out wit a diamond |
| (?) goofy like Skreech, that’s perfect timing |
| I hit her from the back, she singin' like Frankie Lymon |
| You cross the line, stay there, niggas' bought that |
| I’m sippin' Hi-Tech, throwin' chalk back |
| You ain’t got the answers like Sway, but I’m Iverson |
| Quilly got that straight drop flow |
| You niggas' Vitaplan |
| The coke got them smokers slim like they dieting |
| I’m from the mud, I came out clean like (?) |
| Dam, they still mad at me |
| I saw my man lookin' off; |
| threw some cash at em |
| I ain’t mad at you |
| Why you mad at me, me me? |
| Why you mad at me? |
| I ain’t mad at you |