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    Field Mob / Lyrics

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    "Haters" Lyrics

    Field Mob feat. Trick Daddy

    [hook 2x]
    hatin cause my 20's be..choppin! choppin!
    hatin cause these hoes be..jockin! jockin!
    try me and my glock'll be..cockin! poppin!

    Why you wannaaaaaaaaaa playa hate on meeeeeee??
    Is it the big truck sittin' up on Mike Jordans...thats 23's
    with the big ole owl, dual heads roaring
    Or is it the Caprice sittin' Emmitt Smiths...thats 22's
    on the Impala on 20 inches

    Mo' wood in it than old Abe Lincoln's cabin
    and with mo' glass in it, than in your cabinets
    Or is it the way we come down watchin' XXX
    white sex from the ceilin', visors, and headrests
    Or is it the ?? chain, the gucci hat, the gucci Air Jordan retros to match
    Even though I step on the scene, so fresh and so clean
    nice tek'n wit' me, I still got my weapon wit' me
    strapped wit' a tek in my jeans
    ready to squeeze, cause I know you haters get tempted to wear my

    [hook 2x]

    [Trick Daddy]
    Now just imagine if there wasnt no real niggas
    no hustlas, thugstas, mobstas, and field niggas
    On the treal, T double D, I still keep it real
    I love the streets that you fuck niggas named Haterville

    Lied on me, said I was a murderer, said I used to serve you work
    but I aint never heard of you
    I love dub-deuces, only cause I'm sittin on em
    and once again I'm gunnin, copped the big 500
    A Chevy boy, candy green and chrome fronted
    Niggas hide out or they ride out cause my shit runnin
    I sold more oz's than cd's and lp's
    Baby, I'm a thug plus I'm OG
    I roll 'em heavy, I'm bout my fetti
    and the feds is what I'm headed
    if you fuck niggas keep tellin'.

    [hook 2x]

    I was sittin in the rankin, 69 ??
    and ceelo twankys (choppin)
    4 15' subwoofers (blasting)

    I dont like that nigga, fuck that nigga
    Man, I wanna shoot, slap, punch, kick, cut that niggaa!
    Thats what they say on the low
    Thats what paramedics'll say
    while you lay on the floor
    Can we all just get along? smoke trees, hit a bong
    Haters pussy niggas, so I'm a choke 'em wit' a thong
    Even the block envy me, I make a mill wit' the flo'
    but I'm better wit' coke and hot hennessey
    My peers is like queers they only get mad
    cause I ride rims old enough to buy beers
    they smileeee while hatin' but when it comes to fakes
    I spot more than dalmations

    [hook 4x]
    This song was last modified on November 24th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Ultra Tunes, Universal Music Publishing Group.
    Written by Arnell Thompson, Tony Castillo, Darion Crawford, Shawn Johnson, Maurice Young.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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