Yo, yo, this Ma$e, you know what I'm sayin'?
You got niggas that don't like me for whatever reason
You got niggas that don't wanna see me rich
You got niggas that's mad 'cause I'm always with they bitch
Then you got niggas that just don't like me
You know the, those PhD niggas
But you know, I pop a lot of shit but I back it up though
See it's a difference, a lot of niggas pop shit
But a lot of niggas don't make hits
But it's like this whole Bad Boy shit, we come to bring it to y'all niggas
Me, B.I., Puff, Lox, whoever, Black Rob
If you wanna dance, we dance (come on)

Now trick what, lace who? That ain't what Ma$e do
Got a lot of girls that'd love to replace you
Tell you to your face, boo, not behind your back
Niggas talk shit, we never mind that
Funny, never find that, Puff a dime stack
Write hot shit and make a nigga say, rewind that
Niggas know, we go against the Harlem Gigolo
Get your ho, lick her low, make the bitch hit the door
I represent honeys with money, fly guys with gems
Ride with the tints that be thirty-five percent
Hoes hope I lay so I look both ways
Cops say it's "Okay", my tint smoke gray
It's no way nigga leave without handing me my shit
Got plans to get my Lamb and my six
Niggas outta pen'll understand this shit
Pop champagne like I won a championship

Been around the world and I, I, I, and we been playa hated (say what?)
I don't know and I don't know why, why they want us faded
I don't know why they hate us (yeah)
Is it our ladies or our drop Mercedes? (Uh-huh, uh, uh)
Baby, baby

I was in one bedroom, dreaming of a million
Now I'm in beach houses, cream to the ceiling (that's right)
I was a gentleman living in tenements
Now I'm swimming in all the women that be tens (woo)
Went from Bad Boys to the Crushed Linen Men
Now my dividends be the new Benjamins (uh-huh)
Hoes of all complexions, I like cinnamon
Ma$e you got some hoes, well, nigga, send 'em in
What you waiting for? Let the freak show begin
How they came in a truck? (Nah, Puff, that's a Benz)
Mercedes, come here, baby, you don't like the way it's hot and hazy
Never shady, you must be crazy
It's ridiculous how you put your lips on this
Don't kiss right there, girlfriend, I'm ticklish
And I be switchin' fees with a wrist full of G's
Nigga, please, I'm the macaroni with the cheese

Been around the world and I, I, I, and we been playa hated (say what?)
I don't know and I don't know why, why they want us faded (uh, that's right)
I don't know why they hate us
Is it our ladies or our drop Mercedes? (Yeah uh, uh)
Baby, baby

Now Puff rule the world even though I'm young
I make it my biz to see that all ladies cum (yeah)
Get 'em all strung from the tip of my tongue
Lick 'em places niggas wouldn't dare put they faces (come on)
Before I die, hope I one day can float by
In the brand new tres uno ocho
Now when my throat dry even when the smoke lie
Eat the mami chocha and drive her loca
We never ride far, packed five in a car
Save money for the drinks, I'm about to buy the bar (yeah)
And everywhere I drive I'm a star
Little kids all on the corner scream, "That's my car"
It was days couldn't be fly, now I'm in a T.I
Come in clubs with B.I., now a nigga V.I (uh-huh)
Rock tons of gold, enough money I fold
Roll the way you wanna roll, break a hundred at the toll (come on)

Been around the world and I, I, I, and we been playa hated (we been playa hated)
I don't know and I don't know why, why they want us faded (why, why they want us faded?)
I don't know why they hate us (why they hate us?)
Is it our ladies or our drop Mercedes? (Is it our ladies? Say what? Yeah)
Baby, baby

Been around the world and I, I, I, and we been playa hated (you know, sometimes I gotta ask myself)
I don't know and I don't know why, why they want us faded (why is there so much jealousy in the world?)
I don't know why they hate us
Is it our ladies or our drop Mercedes? (Don't look at mine, get yours)
Baby, baby

Okay, after these messages we'll be back with
The Mad Rapper and his brother the Mad Producer, after this
Okay, just sit back, relax, and enjoy yourself
We'll get you through this, take a sip of water
Deep breath, that'll do it
And welcome back as you can see (you got the check though?)
I'm Trevor Jones and I'm sitting in
I've been conversing with the Mad Rapper (did you get the check though?)
And he's still pretty mad
But, this time he brought someone else with him
And quite frankly (yeah, yeah) he's even madder (you goddamn right)
Um, Mr. Producer (yo, you know what I'm sayin'?) why are you so mad?
Yo, I'ma I'ma keep it real simple for you
Yeah t-t-t-t-t-tell them niggas why you mad, son
Tell them niggas why you mad, son (okay, gentlemen please, one at a time)
Tell 'em why you mad, son, word up, tell 'em why you mad, son
You know what I'm sayin'? I-I, I be, I be, I been
I been, I been here for the culture, you know what I'm sayin'?
I don't, I don't, I don't, I don't
I don't be recognizin' all that new jack shit
Yo, we don't, we don't play that shit, you know what I'm sayin'?
(Please Mr. Producer, explain yourself, Mr. Rapper, please calm down)
That nigga be on some bullshit, you know what I'm sayin'?
We ain't, we don't do that shit, word, yeah
He ain't no real producer, you know what I'm sayin'?
And then come to find out, you know what I'm sayin'?
My brother hipped me to it, the nigga tryin' to rap now
Oh yeah, that's the shit that got me mad (please, Mr. Rapper, once again)
That's the shit that got me mad
That's the shit, you know what I'm sayin'? (It's a family oriented show)
You know what I'm sayin'?? That's the shit that feds me up (gentlemen, please)
Word up, you know what I'm sayin'? (Disregard the foul language)
I'm watchin' this nigga video, you know what I'm sayin'?
They got mermaids swimmin' in they living rooms and shit
Like that, you know what I'm sayin'?
This nigga dancin in the rain with kids climbin' up mountains and shit
You know what I'm sayin'?
I'm, I'm, I'm watchin' this nigga video (I'm gonna have to ask you to refrain from the language)
The car goin' two hundred miles an hour
Where the fuck is he goin'? (Please Mr. Rapper, please refrain from the foul language)
The nigga climbin' out the fuckin' car
Let me see you try that shit on a train (one more time)
You know what I'm sayin'? Try that shit on a fuckin' train
What kind of shit, you know what I'm sayin'?
Got a thousand niggaz write for him, let me write for you
Son, my shit is jumpin', I got John Blaze shit

Copyright: Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Andrew Morris, Christopher Wallace, David Bowie, Deric Angelettie, Ian Owen Devaney, Lisa Stanfield, Mason Betha, Peter Brown, Ron Lawrence, Roy Ayers, Sean Combs