Mad at That lyrics

[Intro]
(Nard & B)

[Chorus: Doe Boy]
Pull up in a Rari, [?]
These n*ggas mad at that
I won't even f*ck her she a four
These b*tches mad at that
Real sh*t n*gga, true story
Fake rappers mad at that
Always ride around with that 40
I let it handle that
In the club popping all the bottles
These n*ggas mad at that
Shooters on deck, but I'm poppin
These n*ggas mad at that
n*gga turnt up, can't stop me
I sware they mad at that
Fake ass n*ggas better watch
You know they mad at that

[Verse 1: Doe Boy]
n*ggas out here lerkin
Do a f*ck n*gga dirty
Toat a Mac like Burny
c*ck it back then burn it
Out here, no worries
Goons rush in a hurry
We don't show no mercy
30's like Steph Curry
f*ck n*ggas mad, I don't give a f*ck
Savage young n*gga pull up, shoot you up
Laced in the club, yeah my goon f*ck it up
Killers in the parking lo, shooters in the cut
Young Doe flex, ice on my neck
Freeband Gang, n*ggas know we got a check
Choppers on deck, bullet proof vest
We can go to war, load it up, it's a bet
Pull up in the audi, f*ck her than I'm outi
Young gold n*gga get up fresh up out the county
n*gga get from round me
Can't stand by me
40 on deck, and that b*tch sayin' "try me"
Sacks 5th Louie Av, [?]
40 on deck, and that b*tch sayin' "try me"
Sacks 5th Louie Av, [?]
'Cause they know a n*gga balling, Freeband n*gga [?]
[Chorus: Doe Boy]
Pull up in a Rari, [?]
These n*ggas mad at that
I won't even f*ck her she a four
These b*tches mad at that
Real sh*t n*gga, true story
Fake rappers mad at that
Always ride around with that 40
I let it handle that
In the club popping all the bottles
These n*ggas mad at that
Shooters on deck, but I'm poppin
These n*ggas mad at that
n*gga turnt up, can't stop me
I sware they mad at that
Fake ass n*ggas better watch
You know they mad at that

[Verse 2: Chevy Woods]
If you come where I'm from, but ain't from where I'm from
Man, them young n*ggas flipping your pockets
n*ggas know where I'm from, I ain't even gotta tell 'em
Do something b*tch [?] some problem
All the money that I make a f*cking problem
See this Faragamo belt, that's a problem
[?] ex on the rebound, [?] yeah I got the work for the low, I was coppin
Pull up in a foreign, hopping out cocaine white, looking like a whole [?] at work
[?] pedal back with my b*tch with a compact 9 from her purse
I ain't even trippin on that, I'm a Taylor
My n*gga Doe Boy, he a all out player
KK all in a n*gga, Raw papers
And I'm runway fly, and it's all about layers
You n*ggas washed up, I don't need friends, tryna reach for [?] all my n*ggas on deck
Put that on the gang, put the money in my hand
I be picking up a check, every state that I land
Hit a lick for a half a brick, and I ain't playing
Only one n*gga living
I can vouch for what I'm saying
Paper cuts f*cking blood money, I'm the man
n*ggas wanna kick it with you just to get Freebandz
[Chorus: Doe Boy]
Pull up in a Rari, [?]
These n*ggas mad at that
I won't even f*ck her she a four
These b*tches mad at that
Real sh*t n*gga, true story
Fake rappers mad at that
Always ride around with that 40
I let it handle that
In the club popping all the bottles
These n*ggas mad at that
Shooters on deck, but I'm poppin
These n*ggas mad at that
n*gga turnt up, can't stop me
I sware they mad at that
Fake ass n*ggas better watch
You know they mad at that