Artist: Ludacris f/ Chris Brown, Meek Mill, Pusha T, Swizz Beatz Album: #IDGAF Song: Mad Fo Typed by: Nickolye16@aol.com [Intro: Swizz Beatz] You know one thing I hate is when a person come up to me or I hear somebody say "It must be nice" You know my answer to that, is "You must be a hater" TELL ME WHY YOU MAD FO'! (Ay listen here Luda, we got to keep it real boy) (We gon' do it like this baby) (Listen here, you know what I'm sayin? Luda!) [Chorus] Tell me what they mad fo'! Come around the hood See us sittin there lookin good Tell me what they mad fo'! Cause you be on the radio Soundin like you made a million dollars Hey tell me what they mad fo'! Huh? Tell me what they mad fo'! Tell me what they mad fo' Tell me what they mad fo'! Huh? [Ludacris] Yeah, time to start puttin grown-ass men on time-out Go in the corner and cry somewhere man! Old, old insecure ass nigga; yo' heart pump Kool-Aid man! What you mad at me fo'? Luda~! Is it cause I got houses on every coast? Or that I'm on that Forbes list makin rich rappers look broke While they're blowin that smoke I'm blowin a couple million makin a killin STUNTIN on impostors Only rapper in the game with a Grammy and an Oscar (and the winner is!) 7-figure movie deals, 8-figure bank runs And I'm still feedin the same hood that I came from (YEAH!) Any car that you got I've already drove Any chick that you hit, my nigga I've already ho'd (I did that!) Say it with your chest like these diamonds in my charm Name on my headphones, label tatted on my arm (OHH!) Air traffic control say "Ludacris is insane That nigga daughter's birthday's the tail number on his plane!" (TELL 'EM!) FUCK with me but nobody FUCKIN with me Takin a shot of my cognac, more millions, real G's chug it with ME! If I'm happy there's no reason you should be sad fo' So will somebody, can somebody PLEASE [Chorus] [Meek Mill] Huh~! Yeah... ha! Is you niggaz hatin cause you mad or is you mad cause you hatin? Choose one, hater! Oh! Now if these niggaz hatin on me I'ma kill 'em dead (dead) If I wasn't rappin I'd be probably in the Feds In the cell gettin mail, with a million dollar bail But instead of countin blues I'ma take this YSL And this Gucci and this Louis (Louis) Prada cause I'm hotter (hotter) I used to ball in Philly with that nina Iguodala I beefs up in my Beamer, check aboard my collar And when I check my bank account I'm checkin for them commas I'm like all these niggaz haters (haters) all these bitches fuckin (fuckin) At 24 I went and bought a Ghost like it was nothin At 25 I bought that Aston Martin, now we stuntin And you niggaz still talkin all this money shit you bluffin You bluffin, you bluffin, I really think you bluffin (bluffin) $100,000 man them bottles we just crush 'em Now tell me why you hatin, you hatin cause you mad or is you mad because you hatin? Boy you sad [Chorus] [Chris Brown] Haha, look, yeah, okay I see why you mad, I'm countin all this money And I'm poppin all these tags, hoppin to it, fuckin bunnies Real nigga one hun'ned, you tryin to do it I done it I spit sick on this rap shit, make 'em sick to they stomach I'm clean man, you hatin, mad cause I'm made to keep it real with a real nigga I got racks on racks and a black Maybach, call it black on black cause I kill niggaz In the club all girls, no niggaz don't talk to me cause I ain't really tryna hear niggaz And the coupe is the truth and the roof go poof, vamoose, I can make it disappear nigga See this the type of shit that I be sayin Just because I'm ballin that don't mean a nigga playin Yeah, haters can blow me like a fan Flyer than a bitch, I don't think I'ma ever land But in the meantime, baby what's yo' plan? You can call me daddy but, I can't be yo' man Fiendin like the addicts, when I pull it out they panic B-b-bitch I do damage, you gon' need an ambulance [Chorus] [Swizz Beatz] Showtime~! Put one hand in the air if you know somebody that's mad at you right now for no reason Can you hear me now? Ay Ridin 'round in my jeep, bumpin that 2Pac I'm walkin 'round in my hood, cocked back two Glocks In '98 in my status, I came back I'm the baddest Christian's on my feet, I told you I'm the baddest All the way in Paris, don't talk you'll get embarrassed My watch is fuckin uh, yeah you get embarassed 500 on them racks (get 'em) pulled out them stacks (G's) Niggaz talkin crazy (crazy) drop-top Maybachs My life is just ludicrous, sucka you just new to this 430's pullin up (errt!) God damn we do this shit Chickens and the waffles, chillin in the villa Bumpin "Ludaversal," gettin that scrilla [Chorus] [Swizz Beatz over Chorus] Ladies and gentlemen! Ay! Right, hands up! [Pusha T] Yuuugh! Woo! Hey Luda, you know why these niggaz mad, right? The truth shall set you free If you sellin all the records and you fuckin all the bitches And you sit atop the charts and you livin out your wishes With your chains all smothered, and your watches all glittered And your Ghost and your Phantoms all comin home to visit Or maybe cause your bitches was never really your bitches with your baby mama fuckin every rapper in the business Niggaz sayin you was better when the drugs was in yo' system Now yo' crack swag gone ever since you came from prison Got you tweetin all stupid; is you skatin? Is you dissin? Found out your Ghost's leased and your Phantom just rented Want neither in your name like 'Pac when he went missin Makaveli lives on so I'm ridin on you bitches +Hail Mary+ be the witness, +Lord Willin'+ I was dealin Stupid motherfuckin five star, tatted on his ceiling Bull's-eye, be that motherfuckin target for this killin Ain't y'all the motherfuckers with the millions? [Chorus]