Cam’ron, Juelz Santana - Hate Music lyrics

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 ain't 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

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 ain't that shit
Go 'head and play dumb
Like y'all don't know where Alpo
And Rich Porter came 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 give life up

HOOK

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
Hard 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 ain't nothin for me
I got cake baby, bail ain't 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 ain't nothing but hungry you see
Jimmy, Juelz, Cam, you'll love
One of the three, beeotch