Chaz Gotti, K Camp - Hate lyrics

How can you hate on your man?
Too busy fucked up on Xans
How can you hate on your man?
Too busy fucked up on Xans

I got rich before my idol
Know he mad, he seen me poppin’
Fix your face, I see you poutin’
Spent a check in Neiman Marcus
How can you hate on your man?
Too busy fucked up on Xans
Watch who you calling your friend
They might take the food out your hand

How can you hate on your man?
How can you stay with your man?
How can you eat off your man?
Watch what you say to his homies
Get a badder bitch, you turn her phony
Hate when your man’s your opponent
Put in work with a nigga
Then they end up telling on you
Started from the bottom in the
Trenches with a nigga
Fucked up my wrist with my nigga
Shot my first stick with my nigga
I hate that I called him my nigga
I jumped out a Porsche and a coupe
I’m still with the same crew
Some niggas red, some are blue
Some niggas fake, some true

I got rich before my idol
Know he mad, he seen me poppin’
Fix your face, I see you poutin’
Spent a check in Neiman Marcus
How can you hate on your man?
Too busy fucked up on Xans
Watch who you calling your friend
They might take the food out your hand

Watch who you’re calling your friends
Watch how I flex in a Benz
Watch how I turn up on niggas again
And again and again and again
Hey if I like it I spend
Really no need to pretend
That nigga Gotti my kin
I’m mixing the juice
That’s a hell of a blend
Do it one time, do it one time
Smokin’ that Lou got me out of my mind
Fucking your bitch and I ran out of time
That money keep calling
You know that’s a sign
Yah, and all my niggas want them M&Ms
Fuck them niggas, we ain’t friends with them
For real

I got rich before my idol
Know he mad, he seen me poppin’
Fix your face, I see you poutin’
Spent a check in Neiman Marcus
How can you hate on your man?
Too busy fucked up on Xans
Watch who you calling your friend
They might take the food out your hand

Pop a seal, no Cris
Louis dripping, all Christian
Get love in the D like the Pistons
Good with the TEC and the pistol
That’s the traphouse
Please don’t make it your home
That bitch ain’t no good
Please don’t make her your ho
No love in the streets, I pray I make it home
Fucked up on Xans, I pray I leave em 'lone
Slime be your man but you call him your home
Man I miss Duncan, I wish he was home
She ain’t good for me, I can leave her alone
I can’t resist her in her thong
Can’t name a nigga I did wrong
Took care of the streets on my own
Jurassic Park, Little Italy
Clay county my home

I got rich before my idol
Know he mad, he seen me poppin’
Fix your face, I know you poutin’
Spent a check in Neiman Marcus
How can you hate on your man?
Too busy fucked up on Xans
Watch who you calling your friend
They might take the food out your hand

How can you hate on your man?
Too busy fucked up on Xans
Watch who you callin’ your friends
They might take the food out your hand
How can you hate on your man?
Too busy fucked up on Xans
Watch who you callin’ your friends
They might take the food out your hand

I got rich before my idol
Know he mad, he seen me poppin’
Fix your face, I know you poutin’
Spent a check in Neiman Marcus
How can you hate on your man?
Too busy fucked up on Xans
Watch who you calling your friend
They might take the food out your hand