This is a song about "Mad at cha"

But i'm not mad at you, i'm mad at me cause sometimes i make you sad

Pouring liquor for my niggas that was killed, send em back

Keep your eyes open, i can only say i'll try

I'm done, so mad at you that i don't wanna say goodbye

We get the bread and the crumbs, young money

Well, wait; won’t my mom get mad at me?

My aces got mad body cases, preserve spaces at the horse races

The irony in that is that i ain't even that, but you put it those pages

Educate yourselves, of africa

You won't even know what hit cha

Might want to purchase some game, homey your shit is so wack

You said he raped you and i got all mad and i was laughed at

Cuz she like the dirty southern drawl that the yanks get mad at.

No magic out the hattell baby bye bye, i'm never coming back

You won't survive the night a million dollars baby i bet cha

But instead i got a sister, just like me with her mister nada