Rick Rock - Record Haters lyrics

(Cal Luv's intro) 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.) Yea right, right So tell me Rasheed you know what I'm sayin This hip-hop thang an everythang goin on Tell me, I mean, what, what's yo flavor? (Yo check it out kid, I only like real hip-hop man The real sh**. 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.) [E-40] n***a what the f** they hit for? n***a let's shoot fins You got all the bread n***a, put up yo Benz Nah-nah, can't do that - Why not? Old school trophy Somethin I done worked too hard for, n***a quote me Yo swole bank rolls done turned into lil old anorxins Get ready to pay the piper, Hully Gully pee-wee no catchin' Who got change for this brand new hundred? Staight outta welfare When I break you n***as I'm a have enough money, to buy Fairfield Spend about a half a hundred thousand Boost up my coins Proceed to spit more supafly Than Donald Goins This game is so damn hemorrhaging That I'm delivering These n***as don't understand my sh** 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 a** wallets What's that n***as name? Rasheed Wallace!! You gon' have to learn to respect your elders mayne I'm twomp bait n***a ain't no need for you to record hate Mind ya own, or ya own gonna remind you n***a!! The Click will b*atch! Chorus: Big Lurch & E-40 Record Hatin b**hes! Suave game and snitches! (Learn about it b**h!) We should cease you from existance (That's right) n***as like that shouldn't be livin (Mutha f**a!) Ya Record Hatin b**hes (Trademark.) There's no way you could get wit this (Stick to basketball n***a!) We should cease you from existance n***as like that shouldn't be livin (b*atch!) [E-40] Got another muthaf**a on my sh** list I'm a 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 n***a said some negative sh** about me up in a magazine called " After watchin "New York Undercover" while I was, takin a sh** Kool Keith was on the front cover that's when I That's when I spotted him That n***a AZ tried to say that I don't deserve a platinum plaque n***a I was selling tapes out the trunk of my car When you was running round drinking Simalac All up in yo fake a** videos (ok) Champagne an coffin full of skrill n***a know damn well yo punk a** ain't got had no mills I'm payin full n***a an I'll have yo head where ever you at I'm straight fool n***a seem like someone shoulda been an told ya That bring the yellow tape n***a, jungle full of asphalt Don't make no sense to talk that talk If a n***a ain't gonna walk that walk Zip up yo lip befo' yo lip zip you up b*atch! b*atch! I gives a f**! b*atch! It's major pain n***a don't know a damn thang about me You mutha f**as don't know nuttin bout no E-40 ho! Monkey mouthed b*atch! b*atch! *(Chorus)* Record Hatin b**hes! Suave game and snitches! (Learn about it b**h!) We should cease you from existance (That's right) n***as like that shouldn't be livin (Shouldn't be livin.) Ya Record Hatin b**hes! (Record Hatin b**hes!) There's no way you could get wit this (Uh.) We should cease you from existance (V-Town b**h!) n***as like that shouldn't be livin (E'ry time) [E-40] When I first started off n***as had me f**ed, muthaf**as was blind In '89 that ol "Mr. Flamboyant" sh** 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, an The Click 8-Ball, an MJG gettin that independent paper All about my ruh-uh-rap, uh-should I shine Beat a muthaf**a uh-duh-down, e'ry time 40 get yo marbles man, get yo change Take a limosuine everywhere you go and fly private planes That's what I was taught to do By my big homie thou You can always be a n***a But a n***a ain't rich til he can't count his money no mo' Over night sensation, never me All you "Record Haters" got Ph.IV My n***as 3X Krazy laced me Taught me how to say "fa sheezy" Told me that them AZ muthaf**as don't believe phat means greasy We can shoot it out, or we can fight You an Rasheeda wanna squash the funk? Shoot me some peace b**h! *(Chorus)* Record Hatin b**hes! (Record hatin b**hes!) Suave game and snitches! (Suave game and snitches!) We should cease you from existance (That's rich.) n***as like that shouldn't be livin (s**-els!) Ya Record Hatin b**hes (Lil ol, b*atch!) There's no way you could get wit this (That's right.) We should cease you from existance (Learn about it.) n***as like that shouldn't be livin (That's right.)