Why You Mad

[Intro: Fetty Wap]
(Zaytoven)
Ayy
Ayyy
Yeah Baby!
Ziggy on the beat, bruh
Zoovier! 17
1738

[Chorus: Fetty Wap]
Really, tell me why you mad, son
(Why you mad, why you mad)
Is it 'cause a nigga balling, 'cause a nigga getting rich?
You don't want to make me mad, son (Nah, nah)
'Cause if I pull out this Tommy, I'ma let it finna rip (Brrat, brrat)
For them bands, I get you tagged, son
Niggas come to your apartment, make your baby mother strip
So you best come with that cash, son
I ain't trying to hear no excuses, I ain't trying to hear shit
Really, tell me why you mad, son
(Why you mad, why you mad)
Is it 'cause a nigga balling, 'cause a nigga getting rich?
You don't want to make me mad, son (Yeah, baby)
'Cause if I pull out this Tommy, I'ma let it finna rip (Baby)
For them bands, I get you tagged, son (Ay, ay)
Niggas come to your apartment, make your baby mother strip
So you best come with that cash, son (Yeah, baby)
I ain't trying to hear no excuses, I ain't trying to hear shit

[Verse 1: Fetty Wap]
Once I started, stayed on my grind (Yeah)
Nitt Da Gritt told me don't waste no time (Nah)
Smoking big dope shit, shit smell like pounds (Loud, loud)
I drive a foreign, and the wheels look fine (Skrt, skrt, skrt)
Niggas boring, his flow is not like mine (Yeah, baby)
Couple hundred just to watch my time (Ooh, ooh)
Niggas boring, his flow is not like mine (Yeah, baby)
A couple hundreds just to watch my time (Squad)
Si-sin-since I was young I was jugging (Jugg)
Nickles and dimes of the nuggets (What)
Ever since they robbed me, best believe I was bustin' (Brrt)
Smoking like a zombie, Zoo Gang, my niggas or nothing (Yeah, baby)
Dicey and Monty got me, all my niggas'll cut to bustin' (Yeah, baby)
Seven-ten behind me, fuck niggas ain't saying nothing
Squad

[Chorus: Fetty Wap]
Really, tell me why you mad, son
(Why you mad, why you mad)
Is it 'cause a nigga balling, 'cause a nigga getting rich?
You don't want to make me mad, son (Nah, nah)
'Cause if I pull out this Tommy, I'ma let it finna rip (Brrat, brrat)
For them bands, I get you tagged, son
Niggas come to your apartment, make your baby mother strip
So you best come with that cash, son
I ain't trying to hear no excuses, I ain't trying to hear shit
Really, tell me why you mad, son
(Why you mad, why you mad)
Is it 'cause a nigga balling, 'cause a nigga getting rich?
You don't want to make me mad, son (Yeah, baby)
'Cause if I pull out this Tommy, I'ma let it finna rip (Baby)
For them bands, I get you tagged, son (Ay, ay)
Niggas come to your apartment, make your baby mother strip
(Hey)
So you best come with that cash, son (Yeah, baby)
(Jefe)
I ain't trying to hear no excuses, I ain't trying to hear shit

[Verse 2: Shy Glizzy]
You acting like a Fed (Ah), tell me why you mad (Ah)
Is it 'cause I got that bag (Yeah), or it's 'cause I copped that Jag (Skrt)
This Glizzies moves fast (Yeah), they might get on your ass (Bang, bang)
Can't fuck if she ain't bad, sorry, I can't get her last (No)
My bitch a trap queen (Yeah), and my Aunt a dope fiend (Yeah)
I'm a CEO nigga, you don't know what that means (CEO, oh)
I put on my hood, and feed my whole damn team (Tre-7)
I just say the word, they kill the whole damn scene (Grrat)
Who's these niggas, well I know they not me (No)
They don't excite me, they so plain like white tees (Ahh)
My life is a movie, call me young Spike Lee (What, what)
I know why you mad, 'cause I get checks like Nike (Hey, hey, hey)

[Chorus: Fetty Wap]
Really, tell me why you mad, son
(Why you mad, why you mad)
Is it 'cause a nigga balling, 'cause a nigga getting rich?
You don't want to make me mad, son (Nah, nah)
'Cause if I pull out this Tommy, I'ma let it finna rip (Brrat, brrat)
For them bands, I get you tagged, son
Niggas come to your apartment, make your baby mother strip
So you best come with that cash, son
I ain't trying to hear no excuses, I ain't trying to hear shit
Really, tell me why you mad, son
(Why you mad, why you mad)
Is it 'cause a nigga balling, 'cause a nigga getting rich?
You don't want to make me mad, son (Yeah, baby)
'Cause if I pull out this Tommy, I'ma let it finna rip (Baby)
For them bands, I get you tagged, son (Ay, ay)
Niggas come to your apartment, make your baby mother strip
So you best come with that cash, son (Yeah, baby)
I ain't trying to hear no excuses, I ain't trying to hear shit