B.O.B. - Haters lyrics

Published

0 170 0

B.O.B. - Haters lyrics

[Chorus - B.o.B] We got them going down for the count Looking at the ground That's why we got haters, that's why we got haters Haters everywhere we go, haters everywhere we go Haters everywhere we go, where we go Haters going down for the count Looking at the ground I think you're a hater, I think you're a hater Haters everywhere we go, haters everywhere we go Haters everywhere we go, where we go Haters going down for the count [Verse 1 - B.o.B] Yes sir it's the beast from Decatur Can't see enemies and the haters Real sharp on my thing like a razor Blade, come clean like a shape up So guess I got a game of tape up But everybody going to feel the need to say something But can't speak up whenever you face them That's what you call microphone gangsters Yeah, I got them okie-doke, yeah I'm raw, you know my flow Because folk be acting hard, like a Viagra overdose Talking that noise on all them songs A bunch of little boys but you all look grown Those n***as there, and these n***as here It really don't matter because they all just clones Go to school, read a book, be a lawyer Hell yeah man I'm all for the cause Ain't trying to get involved with the law sir But a n***a will get caught with the Mossberg And that just ain't a threat on the song Don't get it wrong because this track is my own Because n***as that slip they don't last long [Chorus] [Verse 2 - Wes Fif] Hey, what the lick read homie? Me I'm doing what I always do Grinding, if you wasn't steady hating you'd be balling too I know you seen us falling through All the rich n***as is on my crew f** it, they can't touch us, if stuck up is what you call it cool Oh! You should of seen when I came down in that Black on black, custom gator, haters face down on the mat Splat! Yeah I can make a green n***a mad Quick, fast, flash like ten cash on his b**h a** [B.o.B] You can tell I'm a G by the walk and the stance How I play the game make them talk in the stands Watch how you talk when you talk to the man If it ain't about bread you can talk to the hand I, I, show you how to get rich You got a weak arm I'll show you how to pitch Made it so play I'll show you how to hit And tell the police I don't know about sh** Aye guy, I'm fly, something like the air Ain't that something? When it's stunting man there's nothing like air Homie hold it right there, homeboy hold it down Spent five at the mall and had the haters going down [Chorus]

You need to sign in for commenting.
No comments yet.