Dj Clue 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 motherf**king 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 bit*h, you and your hand makin midnight love 

It's over dog, you need to just get right f**k, what 


HOOK 


[Cam'ron] 

I got the gun and clip, runnin sh*t 

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

Then I run things 

Piss in a cup, come on, f**k 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 f**kin 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 bit*hes off the Bacardi 

Hustle often as robbery, so guns, coppin double 

f**k 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