(Cal Luv's intro)
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?
(Sshh. 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's yo flavor?
(Yo check it out kid, I only like real hip-hop man
The real sh**. 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.)
[E-40]
n***a what the f** they hit for? n***a let's shoot fins
You got all the bread n***a, put up yo Benz
Nah-nah, can't do that - Why not? Old school trophy
Somethin I done worked too hard for, n***a quote me
Yo swole bank rolls done turned into lil old anorxins
Get ready to pay the piper, Hully Gully pee-wee no catchin'
Who got change for this brand new hundred?
Staight outta welfare
When I break you n***as I'm a have enough money, to buy Fairfield
Spend about a half a hundred thousand
Boost up my coins
Proceed to spit more supafly
Than Donald Goins
This game is so damn hemorrhaging
That I'm delivering
These n***as don't understand my sh**
But they surrendering
Simmering, remembering things that, done jumped off
Lyrics spit more mucus 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
Fat a** wallets
What's that n***as name?
Rasheed Wallace!!
You gon' have to learn to respect your elders mayne
I'm twomp bait n***a ain't no need for you to record hate
Mind ya own, or ya own gonna remind you
n***a!!
The Click will b*atch!
Chorus: Big Lurch & E-40
Record Hatin b**hes!
Suave game and snitches!
(Learn about it b**h!)
We should cease you from existance
(That's right)
n***as like that shouldn't be livin
(Mutha f**a!)
Ya Record Hatin b**hes
(Trademark.)
There's no way you could get wit this
(Stick to basketball n***a!)
We should cease you from existance
n***as like that shouldn't be livin
(b*atch!)
[E-40]
Got another muthaf**a on my sh** 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
n***a said some negative sh** about me up in a magazine called "
After watchin "New York Undercover" while I was, takin a sh**
Kool Keith was on the front cover that's when I
That's when I spotted him
That n***a AZ tried to say that I don't deserve a platinum plaque
n***a I was selling tapes out the trunk of my car
When you was running round drinking Simalac
All up in yo fake a** videos (ok)
Champagne an coffin full of skrill
n***a know damn well yo punk a** ain't got had no mills
I'm payin full n***a an I'll have yo head where ever you at
I'm straight fool n***a seem like someone shoulda been an told ya
That bring the yellow tape n***a, jungle full of asphalt
Don't make no sense to talk that talk
If a n***a ain't gonna walk that walk
Zip up yo lip befo' yo lip zip you up
b*atch!
b*atch!
I gives a f**! b*atch!
It's major pain
n***a don't know a damn thang about me
You mutha f**as don't know nuttin bout no E-40 ho!
Monkey mouthed b*atch!
b*atch!
*(Chorus)*
Record Hatin b**hes!
Suave game and snitches!
(Learn about it b**h!)
We should cease you from existance
(That's right)
n***as like that shouldn't be livin
(Shouldn't be livin.)
Ya Record Hatin b**hes!
(Record Hatin b**hes!)
There's no way you could get wit this
(Uh.)
We should cease you from existance
(V-Town b**h!)
n***as like that shouldn't be livin
(E'ry time)
[E-40]
When I first started off n***as had me f**ed, muthaf**as was blind
In '89 that ol "Mr. Flamboyant" sh** 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 muthaf**a 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 n***a
But a n***a 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 n***as 3X Krazy laced me
Taught me how to say "fa sheezy"
Told me that them AZ muthaf**as 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 b**h!
*(Chorus)*
Record Hatin b**hes!
(Record hatin b**hes!)
Suave game and snitches!
(Suave game and snitches!)
We should cease you from existance
(That's rich.)
n***as like that shouldn't be livin
(s**-els!)
Ya Record Hatin b**hes
(Lil ol, b*atch!)
There's no way you could get wit this
(That's right.)
We should cease you from existance
(Learn about it.)
n***as like that shouldn't be livin
(That's right.)