Cam`ron F- Juelz Santana Hate Music Lyrics

Hate Music Lyrics

HOOK: Cam'ron

 Ayo my niggas can't take music

 Everybody rap to us, so we hate music

 Now we make the hate music

 We 'bout to rape music, straight up degrate music

 You aint 18, shit, don't even play music

 Killin is another high

 I hope your girl get AIDS, your brother crash and dash

 Or your mother die, and your sister is a topless dancer

 No answer, glaucoma, and your pops got cancer

 

 [Juelz Santana]

 Yo I'm a motherfucking nightmare, y'all can either love me or hate me

 Know alotta niggas wanna slug me and waste me

 That's why I never keep the gun on safety

 When I get this money, y'all gon hate me

 Y'all act like Harlem aint that shit, go 'head and play dumb

 Like y'all don't know where AlPo and Rich bought the caine from

 Sugarhill cocaine slums, get it correct

 Real niggas spit at your chest, look at your death

 Y'all cop Playstations, play Live 2000

 I'ma cop guns, try to survive 2000

 Nigga like me be on the block every day

 While you think your moms look rocked every day

 Cuz she come see me for them rocks every day

 Keep the thang close, ready to pop every day

 Cuz I'm tired of you spot betters

 I got a 380 full of hot peppers, that'll rip through them cop's sweaters

 You dudes is chumps, talkin 'bout you live like thugs

 You be home watchin Midnight Love

 No bitch, you and your hand makin midnight love

 It's over dog, you need to just get right fuck, what

 

 HOOK

 

 [Cam'ron]

 I got the gun and clip, runnin shit

 I run chains, run rings, run in your block, make you run

 Then I run things

 Piss in a cup, come on, fuck a drug test

 I'm on my block, knockout kings, slugfest

 A few beers cold, come through here bold

 A few of us blew our goals when fuckin two years old

 Off to the lobby, all to the body, then auction a shottie

 Go to Boston and party hardy with Walter McCardy

 Drunk, smackin bitches off the Bacardi

 Hustle often as robbery, so guns, coppin double

 Fuck around with me, I'ma pop your bubble

 Put up my own yellow tape, save the cops the trouble

 If you wanna see my true portions, screw bossin

 Kill you like Mike pop for new Jordans

 Come through flossin, jail aint nothin for me

 I got cake baby, bail aint nothin for me

 I'm that same son of a B, gun in the V

 Coke, guns, hookers, I'm the one that you see

 Cats still talkin fly, put his tongue in a tree

 If we nice, then we'll let him keep his lung for a G

 When I rap, it aint nothing but hungry you see

 Jimmy, Juelz, Cam, yo I'm one of the three, beeotch

 

 HOOK