make me mad pt.1 - screwly g & bloodhound q50 lyrics
[intro: screwly g]
mm (ki, you cooked this?)
[verse 1: screwly g]
f*ck my opps alive and f*ck the ones that’s dead inside the box (f*ck ’em)
shouldn’t have said my name, y’all got me mad, y’all got me out my top (these n*ggas done made me mad)
finna say some names, let’s keep it street and just not call the cops (shh)
hmm, alright, uh, n*gga say we can’t post at the store (what?)
last time your homie died, his b*tch ass died by the pump right on the floor (dumb*ass n*gga)
i heard fat quan just got his fat ass shot, missed out, we ain’t gon’ know (phew, phew, phew*phew*phew)
jb knew it was over when they bouncеd out on him and couldn’t even open his door (grrah, grrah, grrah)
huh, alright, uh, who thе f*ck is lil steve? that n*gga a ho (who the f*ck?)
tell a n*gga come to the m right now, we in front of this b*tch right now with ten poles (come on)
we chased tata down them blocks for years, we popped him and his bros (phew, phew, you know that)
n*ggas doin’ interviews on them safe*ass blocks and n*ggas know we ain’t know (safe*ass n*gga)
word from the trenches, did that vlog, so when we catch, we taggin’ his toe
lame*ass n*gga puttin’ people in the smoke on the ‘gram, i don’t care, we still gon’ score (f*ck 12)
i know an opp n*gga daddy died, hit eighty times, son still ain’t roll (you know that)
marmar got his dumb ass shot in the leg and crashed into a pole (crash dummy*ass n*gga)
huh, alright, uh, i’ll come to the ‘raq right now and get busy (you know that)
billi and swagg mad i ain’t wanna do a song, i’ll come slap the sh*t out billi (on foenem)
swagg, your ass a b*tch, lookin’ like type n*gga to go throw a party with diddy (old g*y*ass n*gga)
n*gga said everybody who dissed duck done died, but all his k!llers still livin’
let them n*ggas just roam the streets just long enough ’til they went to prison (old b*tch*ass n*gga)
that ain’t no disrespect to duck (at all), i’m just showin’ the n*ggas who diss is b*tches
n*ggas in the zone or hidin’ in vegas, bring your b*tch ass back to the trenches (stop hidin’)
them dudes tough on interviews for clout, but ain’t k!lled sh*t for they n*ggas (soft*ass n*gga)
n*ggas on youtube talkin’ ’bout street sh*t (the f*ck?), uh, i think yella snitchin’
n*ggas ain’t been to the ‘raq, tell them n*ggas come back, drop lo’, i’ll pull up bl!ckin’ (grrah)
n*gga from 73rd, not 63rd (the f*ck?), yella just wanted attention
soon as we got off the phone, he did the vlog, these old*ass n*ggas be trippin’ (old*ass n*gga)
hmm, alright, uh, we the main reason opps throw up a v (you know that)
we put an opp in the dirt, then spit on his grave, then went right back on a spree (b*tch)
ever seen a rich n*gga spin out a foreign or jump out the back of an amg? (grrah)
semi finna die from sickle cell, his ass in the hospital every week (old sick*ass n*gga)
alright, uh, broke*ass n*ggas ain’t talkin’ ’bout sh*t (you know that)
always screwly this and screwly that, tell them n*ggas get off my d*ck
bro, when buzz got shot, but not by opps, still made sure somethin’ got zipped (they know what happened)
n*ggas was on that safe*ass block, if we got that lo’, would’ve spinned that b*tch (grrah, grrah)
n*ggas recordin’ the day, upload when they gone, on tank, that’s scary sh*t (the f*ck?)
catch a n*gga ridin’ on the e*way, do him like tj, pull on side that b*tch (pew*pew)
i can name ten different n*ggas got hit when we spinned, but that’s how indictments hit (shh)
i thought twan was dead at westside foods, but he did what a possum did (that n*gga played dead)
we caught lil tae ridin’ the bottom in a srt, but he sped off fast (yoom)
jb special ed, we don’t give no f*ck, we still gon’ smoke his ass (old slow*ass n*gga)
lil tre made it to bend right there that day, shots fired, tired to clap his mans (pew*pew)
we came in there and we all had pipes, but them was the only two p*ssies that ran (made him use his feet)
none of ’em got off first, they ain’t even hit back, they couldn’t even box me in (you know that)
i felt the drill was sloppy, spinned back around and blew at they ass again (pew, pew, pew*pew*pew*pew)
lil tae blowin’ the drac’, i’m workin’ the arp, should’ve grabbed fn (pew, pew, pew*pew)
i don’t even why i argue with the opps, lil yai told me these n*ggas be fans (on foenem, i need to chill, blood)
huh, alright, uh, uh, n*gga try to run, we gon’ do him like ricky (uh*huh)
it’s me, opp, and 50 spinnin’ the 100s right now tryna catch a risky (grrah)
50 jump out with fifty, i jump out with sixty, big opp jump out with switchy (phew*phew)
before we went on a drill, pick up kyro, slid with 150 (kyro, what you on, drench?)
alright, uh, these n*ggas tryna hit where it hurt (okay)
billi say he smokin’ tank (the f*ck?), but don’t even know him, we finna flame up jerk
your b*tch ass don’t do sh*t but diss every time your friends get put in the he*rs* (n*gga, you better go spin)
n*gga, i’m rich as f*ck, i’ll drop a dub on you and get you murked (you know that)
[bridge: screwly g & bloodhound q50]
50, what you on, broski?
long live my brother, he probably k!lled your b*tch*ass brother
go
[verse 2: bloodhound q50]
go, these n*ggas ain’t did no k!llin’
i’m nineteen, up a zach lavine, give a f*ck about rap, i’m still out spinnin’
blood had called, said he tryna go spin, we can spin downtown, last two got lifted
speakin’ of lyfts, that b*tch*ass n*gga got caught in a lyft and looked up, he sh*tted
jv died at the store with his ass out, draco shots had him runnin’ and trippin’
spinnin’ the 5 with screw, he tryna bounce out broad day, we just keep on flippin’
kobe and tata nice as f*ck, every time they seen me, them n*ggas was friendly
8tre say we ain’t up on them, these n*ggas be laced, they forgot about clifton
i’m not a regular rapper, n*gga, ask about me, they know i got hats in the trenches
f*ck tj, we was trollin’ online, now his dumb ass dead, stopped a snake from hissin’
i know dre mad as h*ll, his b*tch*ass brother out here ain’t doin’ no spinnin’
ridin’ for his gang, got left in an uber, smoke tre tre, hit harder than tooka
i don’t give no f*ck if it’s kids in the whip, get caught, i’m clappin’, n*gga, go ask dooda
when i spin that b*tch, i don’t want no goofy, but i guess i’ll settle for mooka
67th the new 63rd, i clap ears together, n*gga, f*ck what you heard
if tae want you dead, then you goin’ in the dirt
ridin’ three deep, just me, jeff, and swerv, go
[outro: bloodhound q50]
long live my brother, he probably k!lled your b*tch*ass brother
f*ck the opps crazy
f*ck all my opps and f*ck all screwly opps
matter of fact, we got the same opps, f*ck ’em
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