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    E-40 / Lyrics

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    "Record Haters" Lyrics

    E-40

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    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?

    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, what's yo flavor?

    Yo, check it out kid, I only like real hip hop man, the real shit
    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

    Nigga what the fuck they good fo? Nigga let's shoot fins
    You got all the bread nigga, put up yo Benz
    Nah nah, can't do that, why not? Ol' skool trophy
    Somethin' I done worked too hard fo nigga quote me

    Yo swole bank rolls done turned to li'l ol anarxins
    Get ready to pay the price
    [Incomprehensible] pee wee no catchin'
    Who got change fo this brand new hundred?

    Straight outta welfare when I break you niggas
    I'm a have enough money to buy a bare fare
    Spend about a half a hundred thousand, boost up my coins
    Preceed to spit mo supafly than Donald Goins

    This game is so damn hemrigin that I be deliverin'
    These niggas don't understand my shit but they surrendurin'
    Simmerin', rememberin' things that done jumped off
    Lyrics spit on niggas 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, phat ass wallets
    What's that nigga name? Rasheed Wallace

    You gon' have to learn to respect yo elders mayne
    I'm twomp bait nigga ain't no need for you to record hate
    Mind ya own or ya own gon remind you, nigga
    The Click will biatch

    Record Hatin' bitches, suave game and snitches
    Learn about it bitch, we should cease you from existance
    That's right, niggas like that shouldn't be livin', mutha fucka

    Ya Record Hatin' bitches, trademark
    There's no way you could get wit this, stick to basketball nigga
    We should cease you from existance
    Niggas like that shouldn't be livin', biatch

    Got another muthafucka on my shit 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 nigga said some negative shit about me up

    In a magazine called 'After watchin' New York Undercover'
    While I was, takin' a shit Kool Keith
    Was on the front cover that's when I
    That's when I spotted him

    That nigga AZ tried to say that I don't deserve a platinum plaque
    Nigga I was sellin' tapes out the trunk of my car
    When you was runnin' round drinkin' Simalac
    All up in yo fake ass videos

    Champagne an coffin full of skrill
    Nigga know damn well yo punk ass ain't got had no mills
    I'm payin' full nigga an I'll have yo head where ever you at
    I'm straight fool nigga seem like someone shoulda been an told ya

    That bring the yellow tape nigga, jungle full of asphalt
    Don't make no sense to talk that talk if a nigga ain't gon' walk that walk
    Zip up yo lip befo' yo lip zip you up
    Biatch, biatch, I gives a fuck, biatch

    It's major pain, nigga don't know a damn thang about me
    You mutha fuckas don't know nuttin 'bout no E-40 hoe
    Monkey mouthed biatch, biatch

    Record Hatin' bitches, suave game and snitches
    Learn about it bitch, we should cease you from existance
    That's right, niggas like that shouldn't be livin'
    Shouldn't be livin'

    Ya Record Hatin' bitches, Record Hatin' bitches
    There's no way you could get wit this
    Uh, we should cease you from existance
    V-Town bitch, niggas like that shouldn't be livin', e'ry time

    When I first started off niggas had me fucked, muthafuckas was blind
    In '89 that ol' 'Mr. Flamboyant' shit 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 muthafucka 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 nigga but a nigga 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 niggas 3X Krazy laced me taught me how to say 'Fa sheezy'
    Told me that them AZ muthafuckas 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 bitch

    Record Hatin' bitches, Record hatin' bitches
    Suave game and snitches, suave game and snitches
    We should cease you from existance, that's rich
    Niggas like that shouldn't be livin', suck else

    Ya Record Hatin' bitches, lil ol, biatch
    There's no way you could get wit this, that's right
    We should cease you from existance, learn about it
    Niggas like that shouldn't be livin', that's right
    This song was submitted on December 26th, 2009 and last modified on October 18th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC.
    Written by Ricardo Thomas.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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