Rgda3(Dont run if you trip)

DeadGame- MyLoGunzz x Mar Sparks

QCfrmdas-Trust nobody

Friday(FT.TDXTBLUE⏰💙)

Like That(Ft.OdottiB)

Duke & Kai

Kay Glizz x Nunnie Da III - Rocky

Every generation of music has its soundtrack to relationships gone sideways. Blues had heartbreak, jazz had infidelity, rock had groupies, and hip-hop? We’ve got hoes weird and hoes mad. It’s not hate, it’s anthropology. When you’re living out of cars, cooking beats in bus studios, and pulling up to the bog in a green El Camino, you start to notice a pattern: some folks exist purely to supply the drama that fuels the art.

The “weird” hoe is like an experimental synth plugin. At first you’re curious — maybe this random LFO brings something different to the beat. But soon enough it’s detuning the whole track, and you realize this plugin is trial-version only. The weird hoe thrives on confusion: ghosting then double-texting, pulling up when you’re mixing, or asking why your music sounds “different” right when you’re trying to nail the master bus. They’re not evil — they’re just the background noise in your signal chain.

The “mad” hoe, on the other hand, is distortion turned up past clipping. She’s not subtle. She’s peak-red anger because you didn’t play her favorite Drake song in your set, or because your suit at the show was “too clean.” A mad hoe will treat your Spotify streams like it’s a scoreboard in a relationship. But here’s the truth: no amount of fury changes the beat — the snare still slaps, the verse still lands, and the hook still rings out “hoes weird, hoes mad.”

And the irony? Without them, the music would be boring. You can’t write bangers about calm evenings of herbal tea and balanced chakras. You need the chaos, the eye-roll texts, the “why didn’t you text me back” voicemail that you accidentally sample into a hit. Weird energy and mad energy are just raw stems in the multitrack session of life. And if you’re smart enough, you flip them into gold.

So when you see the album art — the dinner table in a parking lot, spotlight on the squad — remember: we’re not angry at hoes or mad they're weird. We’re grateful. They’re the hi-hats to our kicks, the unresolved tension in our chord progressions. Without them, we’d just be rapping about taxes and tire pressure.

At the end of the day, hoes weird, hoes mad isn’t an insult. It’s a genre. It’s the comedy woven into chaos, the reason the party doesn’t stop, and the beat doesn’t fade.

GO!

Tdxt8litzem

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