DJ Drama - Where the Haters At lyrics

[Chorus: Young Buck] They was glad I was broke, mad 'cause I'm rich So put that n***a out if it's a hater in this b**h (uh-oh!!) Stuntin in the club, make 'em start a riot Throw my hood up then go take it outside [Repeat] [Verse 1: Young Buck] Why you hate me n***a? Yo baby momma love me She see me in the club, and runs up and hug me I show her no love, she keep on comin back Tellin me she got yo club, and where yo money at It must be my 'Lac, that's sittin on Pirellis The way I count stacks, that's got these n***as jealous See I'm hard on a hoe, I get down for mine You need a hand-out b**h, don't waste ya time If you don't work (you don't work), you don't eat (you don't eat) We go to jail, go to church, go to sleep I'm ridin' 'round wit Scrappy in the A wit my heat Tryna figure out how to get to Peachtree Come on n***a [Verse 2: Lil' Murder] Young n***a, but a certified playa But youse a b**h n***a, youse a bonafide hater They was glad I was broke, but now I'm livin major Hustlin and servin n***as like a waiter for the paper We ridin down the strip in sumthin so wet When ya b**h see a n***a, wanna s** a n***a dick Smokin' dro and drinkin' liquor till a n***a get sick Every city, every state, it's the same ol' sh** n***a money make the world go 'round so get ya hustle on These n***as snitchin' so much, I'm like "f** a phone" Mad 'cause I'm on, they love to see me down I know you gon' let me shine and get mine n***a [Chorus] [Verse 3: All-Star] Look, hatin' ain't healthy, n***a so keep it movin' These shots will wake ya whole hood up, I'm sleepin' through it Chea, I'm used to it, I done made a gun fire Pull the trigger one time, sound like a gun fight You was glad I was broke, now ya mad 'cause ya hoe Love it when a n***a put it in the back of her throat Buck, Hi-see, Murder, and Star, we ain't never scared I don't need my pistol in the club, I'll brawl there I know hustlers that do deal white Jump stupid, find out what these boots feel like Yea, y'all know me, All-Star I'm so street (yea) What it is, what it ain't, what it gon be [Verse 4: Hi-C] I don't bust my gun, like a halftime football game I aimed straight and I took y'all name And ya whole click look all lame You can catch me in the house with a pyrex and it cook all caine Put that metal in ya mouth, you gon swear I was doctor walls I'm in the club with my muthaf**in' glock in drawers I had to let my nuts hang, so I dropped my balls You ain't hit him wit no bullets n***a shot the walls You shoot to scare, I aim and k** When I dump on you, they gon think yo brain ain't real I'm heavyweight in the game, you featherweight When they hear a n***a take a loss, they wanna celebrate b**h [Chorus]