Record Haters

Yo check it out Today we're here wit basketball star Rasheed Wallace (Yo what up kid?) From the... what, what, what team is that you play for again? (Sshh. The Bullets man.) So tell me Rasheed you know what I'm sayin This hip-hop thang and everything going on Tell me, I mean, what, what's yo flavor? (Yo check it out kid, I only like real hip-hop man The real shit. You know what I'm sayin. Redman, Wu-Tang You know what I'm sayin. I don't fool wit the Goodie Mob's And I especially don't fool wit them E-40's.) Nigga what the fuck they hit for? Nigga let's shoot fins You got all the bread nigga, put up yo' Benz Nah-nah, can't do that - Why not? Old school trophy Something I done worked too hard for, nigga quote me Yo swole bank rolls done turned into lil old anorxin Get ready to pay the piper, Hully Gully pee-wee no catchin' Who got change for this brand new hundred? Straight outta welfare When I break you niggas I'm a have enough money, to buy Fairfield Spend about a half a hundred thousand Boost up my coins Proceed to spit more Superfly Than Donald Goines This game is so damn hemorrhaging That I'm delivering These niggas don't understand my shit But they surrendering Simmering, remembering things that, done jumped off Lyrics spit more mucus than a, a bad cough Messy hoes, got my name between they teeth Just because... I'm from the West not the East Graduated from the dope game Fat ass wallets What's that nigga name? Rasheed Wallace!! You gon' have to learn to respect your elders mayne I'm twomp-eight nigga ain't no need for you to record hate Mind ya own, or ya own gonna remind you Nigga!! The Click will biatch! Record Hatin bitches! Suave game and snitches! (Learn about it bitch!) We should cease you from existence (That's right) Niggas like that shouldn't be livin (Mutha fucka!) Ya Record Hatin bitches (Trademark.) There's no way you could get wit this (Stick to basketball nigga!) We should cease you from existance Niggas like that shouldn't be livin (Biatch!) Got another muthafucka on my shit list I'ma cut off his dick list I mean my hit list My rest in piss list Dude that be hangin around Nas You know, gay baby Nigga said some negative shit about me up in a magazine called 4080 After watching "New York Undercover" while I was, takin a shit Kool Keith was on the front cover that's when I That's when I spotted it That nigga AZ tried to say that I don't deserve a platinum plaque Nigga I was selling tapes out the trunk of my car When you was running round drinking Similac All up in yo fake ass videos (ok) Champagne an coffin full of skrill Nigga know damn well yo punk ass ain't got had no mills I'm payin full nigga an I'll have yo head where ever you at I'm straight fool nigga seem like someone shoulda been an told ya That bring the yellow tape nigga, jungle full of asphalt Don't make no sense to talk that talk If a nigga ain't gonna walk that walk Zip up yo' lip before yo' lip zip you up Biatch! Biatch! I gives a fuck! Biatch! It's major pain Nigga don't know a damn thang about me You mutha fuckas don't know nuttin bout no E-40 ho! Monkey mouthed biatch! Biatch! Record Hatin bitches! Suave game and snitches! (Learn about it bitch!) We should cease you from existance (That's right) Niggas like that shouldn't be livin (Shouldn't be livin.) Ya Record Hatin bitches! There's no way you could get wit this (Uh.) We should cease you from existence (V-Town bitch!) Niggas like that shouldn't be livin (E'ry time) When I first started off niggas had me fucked, muthafuckas was blind In '89 that ol "Mr. Flamboyant" shit was way ahead of his time Had everyone an they great grandmas off that Carlos Rossi wine Was in a major label an business that uh didn't want us to shine It was me an my potna from Suave House Records Tony Draper, E-40, and The Click 8-Ball and MJG gettin that independent paper All about my ruh-uh-rap, uh-should I shine Beat a muthafucka uh-duh-down, e'ry time 40 get yo marbles, mayne, get yo change Take a limousine everywhere you go and fly private planes That's what I was tuh-uh-told by my big homie tho You gon' always be a nigga But a nigga ain't rich til he can't count his money no mo' Overnight sensation, never me All you "Record Haters" got Ph.IV My niggas 3X Krazy laced me Taught me how to say "fa sheezy" Told me them AZ muthafuckas don't believe fat meat greasy We can shoot it out, or we can fight You and Rasheeda wanna squash the funk? Shoot me a peace kite Biatch! Record Hatin bitches! Suave game and snitches! We should cease you from existance (That's rich.) Niggas like that shouldn't be livin (Suck-els!) Ya Record Hatin bitches (Lil ol, biatch!) There's no way you could get wit this (That's right.) We should cease you from existence (Learn about it.) Niggas like that shouldn't be livin (That's right.)