Lyrics I Ain't Mad at You - Quilly, Jay Marie

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