Rich Homie Quan - f** 'Em lyrics

[Hook: T-Pain] {Rich Homie Quan} And I put that on MJ, {MJ} I'm bad {I'm bad} They hatin', {They hatin'} they mad {They mad} On my momma, {On my momma} on me {On me} They hatin', {They hatin'} and got beef {Hey, hey, hey} All I say is f** 'em (x8) {(f** these n***as, and f** these b**hes)}[x4] f** 'em (x8) {(They don't really want it)}[x4] [Verse 1: T-Pain] I put that on everything, on my clique Let me get a couple drinks in my system I go put it down on your b**h Oh man, I've been putting on for my n***as, and I let 'em put her on Brand new whip with some petal and some metal they gon' flip that [?] on How y'all n***as gon' act when I pull up in that Maybach with a f**ing chauffeur in the front and a view with b**hes in the back And they all want me to, (Touch 'em, touch 'em) And later on I'm gon', (f** 'em, f** 'em) I know y'all n***as don't like me, tough titty for you broke hoes Send them n***as wanna fight me, they gon' leave the club with a broke nose Y'all keep me going, y'all keep me great So I'ma do me and haters gon' hate [Hook] [Verse 2: Rich Homie Quan] I pull up in the drop head I don't think that they really want it Drunk an eighth then I drop dead I don't think that they know I'm on it The red light I got stopped there I could tell 12 by only Showed 'em my paper like "Go on n***a", you got the wrong n***a but On my momma, and on my dad I like commas, I don't like dashes Put that on MJ, I know I'm bad I'm talking bout' Jordan, ain't talking bout' Jackson [Hook] [Verse 3: Waka Flocka Flame] All this money but you ain't go do nothing All that talking but you ain't go do nothing Pulling out guns but you ain't shoot nothing, nothing sh**, partner protecting me money ain't nothing On slam dunk and I ain't playing with you n***as, can't sprang at you n***as, can't stop till' the whole world feel us Ya feel us, BSM we the real good billas' He talk a lot of much, that boy just jealous He don't want no war, ain't no n***as knocking at your front door In the club, hoodies, goons on the dance floor Think I'm playing, I call a hundred more (more, more,) Racks, f** ones long as money stack Been on tour six months, I'm back Lost weight but my pocket still fat [Hook] [Verse 4: Young Cash] n***as just be talkin' cause they got lips When I put up them choppers n***as get flipped Hit 'em in the head, stomach, then I reload my clip I dunno what y'all done heard But Young Cash ain't one to play with Just ask these n***as in the streets Who had failure to make payments? Matter fact, they swimmin' with the fishes I'ma shark just swimmin' with the b**hes And I got your girl with my hand on her a** if I'm coming downtown watching Netflix Young Cash, I'm a real G (n***as see it in my eyes) You tried n***a but everybody gon' see (That you ain't bout' that life) I'm the best in the game, so everybody know that (I'm a smooth criminal) And we can come to a trap, they got about nine [?] (It's a [?] minimum) On my momma, on my children On this hood, on this verse You try me I'll put your face up on a shirt