Yo JT tell her to give me a 7 UP man Hey, hey that b**h tripping man, hey bring us some drinks ho Man that show was liver than a motherf**er they was loving us Man it was large as sh** Verse 1 (JT the Bigga Figga) Check the sickness, forget this game that you missing So I understand you had a plan to rip up potential Players in the game without no shame to fault me Realize that they surprised that you tried to salt me I backed up off ya, I seen ya coming Doing a 100 or more running, so now I'm gunning If you try to play them players n***a than you getting played Keeping my game tight so short like a razor blade Afraid of who is what you ask me Just because you got your mac10 ready to blast me And pa** me up as if you didn't know Representing getting low, P n***a hit the floor Verse 2 (Master P) Sideways through the cut with the gold one's spinning s**ers jealous cause they know the P is deep up in it On my way to Filmore to see JT We ain't set tripping its all about some dope beats But you got to watch your back for them perpetrators Imitators man I mean player haters You know the type, that's quick to f**ing give you dap And all the while, they ready to f**ing peel your cap And if ya don't understand don't test me Cause the P ain't living f**ing nappy I'll leave some motherf**ing flowers at your gravesite And make love to your b**h almost every night Caught you slipping and you died like a perpetrator On your tombstone should read player hater (Chorus) I ain't saying no names Its alot of player haters ain't true to the game Verse 3 (Master P) Player haters in ya face wanna talk and laugh Same fool in the hood with a ski mask Don't move don't budge don't even flinch Caught you slipping so they going for your dividends I should put you on your back once they get your scraps Cause they know a n***a like you is living fat And as you stroll in the 4, cause life is cold But don't trip cause that's just a bad episode That life in the ghetto ain't no joke At sometime you die in this game for selling dope But if you don't sell dope, than you gotta kick it And them same hoes, they wanna f**ing kick it Verse 4 (San Quinn) Do you wanna ride to this or do you wanna side to this Just a young baby boy coming with the flyest sh** Get you higher than that chronic can bring ya Lets hit that n***as field Coming from your shoulders, now you reaching for your steel My ?? of real is a step away from nothing happened Pick up the mic and get to rapping Stepping like the?? making all these hoes something vicious Not even these playa haters can identify my sickness You taking winners to ?? while I caught myself Hit the cuts and came up with legitimate wealth From the ?? hardest city by the Bay Busting rhymes, dropping nines dropping simply for a payday Had his rest to make way Before I break him down with the og russian cickle When the sh** don't tickle My show won't pickle and I ain't no buster You player hating n***as better stay away from a real hustler And its like that for the 94 n***a (Repeat 3x) And its like that and its like that And you player hating n***as don't like that