This is a song about "The mad hatte"

If we thinking success is only measured by your money

Coaches always mad when the do finally play me,

Knowing i can go wherever and get 8 more

The fuck is everybody so mad at the north for?

I'm mad as hell, on the trail of the tattle tail

We broke and that dough coming slow as a snail

Blood spatter, cerebral brain matter splattered on the mad hatter,

I could give a fuck as long as there’s something that’s behind of her

A boy, mothers mothering... they belong to the mad

Like bobby had whitney we was cooking up crack

If you something like paid you can fuck tonight

Haters mad cause i aint playin the game right

Been like this from the start, mad bars/

When bret hart meet brett farve

Listen i got mad love for the game and the women

Snapping necks and records in matter of seconds check 'em son