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Текст (слова) песни: Young Buck - Where The Haters At?


[Chorus: Young Buck]
They was glad I was broke, mad cuz I`m rich
So put that nigga out if it`s a hater in this bitch (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 nigga? 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 niggas jealous
See I`m hard on a hoe, I get down for mine
You need a hand-out bitch, 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 nigga

[Verse 2: Lil` Murder]
Young nigga, but a certified playa
But youse a bitch nigga, youse a bonafide hater
They was glad I was broke, but now im livin major
Hustlin and servin niggas like a waiter for the paper
We ridin down the strip in sumthin so wet
When ya bitch see a nigga, wanna suck a nigga dick
Smokin` dro and drinkin` liquor till a nigga get sick
Every city, every state, it`s the same ol` shit
Nigga money make the world go `round so get ya hustle on
These niggas snitchin` so much, I`m like "fuck a phone"
Mad cuz im on, they love to see me down
I know you gon` let me shine and get mine
nigga

[Chorus]

[Verse 3: All-Star]
Look, hatin` aint healthy, nigga 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 cuz ya hoe
Love it when a nigga put it in the back of her throat
Buck, Hi-C, Murder, and Star, we aint 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, yall know me, All-Star im so street (yea)
What it is, what it aint, 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 yall 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
Im in the club with my muthafuckin` glock in drawers
I had to let my nuts hang, so I dropped my balls
You aint hit him wit no bullets nigga shot the walls
You shoot to scare, I aim and kill
When I dump on you, they gon think yo brain aint real
Im heavyweight in the game, you featherweight
When they hear a nigga take a loss, they wanna celebrate
Bitch

[Chorus]

 

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