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lirik lagu mad at us – 15-12 budd

[intro: wooski]
let’s get it, gang sh*t
shout out to the gang, man
r.i.p. and free my n*ggas, man (fbg, man, clout boyz sh*t)
all that there, b*tch, gang

[chorus: wooski]
b*tch, we clouted up
b*tch, we clouted up
i guess that’s why they mad at us
i guess they mad at us
smoking keta, counting up
smoking keta, counting up
blood money in this double cup
in a double cup
b*tch, we clouted up
b*tch, we clouted up
i guess that’s why they mad at us
i guess they mad at us
smoking keta, counting up
smoking keta, counting up
blood money in this double cup
in a double cup
[verse 1: wooski]
y’all ran out of luck (f*ck the opps)
shooters wilding in them cuts, me and my gang be going nuts (tooka gang, turn up)
shout out cray cray, cashout, and my broski duck (foe ‘nem)
and b*tch, you must be from halsted if you think you gon’ get cuffed (silly b*tch, gang)
all that sh*t you talk to me, boy, it’s a bluff (you ain’t getting no bread)
can’t never lack in chiraq, my boys too rough (there go them k!llers)
pull up on your b*tch, i’m like, “what up?” (skrt skrt, skrt skrt, skrt skrt, get down)
they scared to post on their block, we let guns fuss (glah, glah, grah)

[verse 2: 15*12 budd]
they call me jaro city budd, n*gga
ruger with that thirty*three, we send them slugs, n*gga
tutu gang, n*gga, we don’t show no love (ttg)
we hit your block all*black with the gloves (with them gloves)
wet his p*ssy*ass up like a tub (he wet)
all you seen was a puddle of blood (d*mn, he leaking)
now, me and wooski and [?] throwing dubs (f*ck up a check)
we f*ck the check up, then we might rob the plug (give it here)

[chorus: wooski]
b*tch, we clouted up
b*tch, we clouted up
i guess that’s why they mad at us
i guess they mad at us
smoking keta, counting up
smoking keta, counting up
blood money in this double cup
in a double cup
b*tch, we clouted up
b*tch, we clouted up
i guess that’s why they mad at us
i guess they mad at us
smoking keta, counting up
smoking keta, counting up
blood money in this double cup
in a double cup
[verse 3: electrik]
one big strap and a two*seater
i don’t do lean, but my n*ggas drink by the liter
that’s why these boys mad, ’cause they gotta pay for a feature
i don’t do tricking, only thing i pay for is sneakers (uh)
i love my b*tch, i’ll never say, “i don’t love these hoes” (yeah)
i be shining for diamonds, keep a yellow b*tch just to match my gold (just to match my gold)
on the grind, you can tell how the paper stack and fold (uh)
that’s real n*gga sh*t ’til the casket closed

[verse 4: va the mobster]
yeah, we got ’em mad as f*ck (uh*yea)
approach me wrong, i’m letting the pistols bust (bah)
and trust
n*gga, you f*cking with gs, not f*cking with thugs (uh*yea)
really ’bout that action (uh*huh)
and all of my n*ggas, we really be packing (we packing)
and subtracting
all these fake*ass, flaw*ass n*ggas that really be acting (uh*yea)
all that gutter gutter sh*t that you talking ’bout
n*gga, it ain’t gon’ make you last that long (unh*uh)
’cause shawty be good with the chrome
bringing that pressure right to your home (uh*yea)
really ’bout that bread, though
but strapped with them choppers just like commandos (commandos)
this game get greasy (huh)
and when it does, i’m letting the things go
[chorus: wooski]
b*tch, we clouted up
b*tch, we clouted up
i guess that’s why they mad at us
i guess they mad at us
smoking keta, counting up
smoking keta, counting up
blood money in this double cup
in a double cup
b*tch, we clouted up
b*tch, we clouted up
i guess that’s why they mad at us
i guess they mad at us
smoking keta, counting up
smoking keta, counting up
blood money in this double cup
in a double cup

- 15 12 budd

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