[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 n***a balling, 'cause a n***a 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
N***as 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 n***a balling, 'cause a n***a 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)
N***as 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)
N***as boring, his flow is not like mine (Yeah, baby)
Couple hundred just to watch my time (Ooh, ooh)
N***as 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 n***as or nothing (Yeah, baby)
Dicey and Monty got me, all my n***as'll cut to bustin' (Yeah, baby)
Seven-ten behind me, fuck n***as 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 n***a balling, 'cause a n***a 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
N***as 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 n***a balling, 'cause a n***a 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)
N***as 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 n***a, 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 n***as, 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 n***a balling, 'cause a n***a 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
N***as 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 n***a balling, 'cause a n***a 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)
N***as 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