Where The Haters At?

Lyrics

[Chorus: Young Buck]  
They was glad I was broke, mad 'cause I'm rich  
So put that nigga out if it's a hater in this bitch (uh-oh!!)  
Stuntin in the club, make 'em start a riot  
Throw my hood up then go take it outside  
[Repeat]  
[Verse 1: Young Buck]  
Why you hate me nigga? Yo baby momma love me  
She see me in the club, and runs up and hug me  
I show her no love, she keep on comin back  
Tellin me she got yo club, and where yo money at  
It must be my 'Lac, that's sittin on Pirellis  
The way I count stacks, that's got these niggas jealous  
See I'm hard on a hoe, I get down for mine  
You need a hand-out bitch, don't waste ya time  
If you don't work (you don't work), you don't eat (you don't eat)  
We go to jail, go to church, go to sleep  
I'm ridin' 'round wit Scrappy in the A wit my heat  
Tryna figure out how to get to Peachtree  
Come on nigga  
[Verse 2: Lil' Murder]  
Young nigga, but a certified playa  
But youse a bitch nigga, youse a bonafide hater  
They was glad I was broke, but now I'm livin major  
Hustlin and servin niggas like a waiter for the paper  
We ridin down the strip in sumthin so wet  
When ya bitch see a nigga, wanna suck a nigga dick  
Smokin' dro and drinkin' liquor till a nigga get sick  
Every city, every state, it's the same ol' shit  
Nigga money make the world go 'round so get ya hustle on  
These niggas snitchin' so much, I'm like "fuck a phone"  
Mad 'cause I'm on, they love to see me down  
I know you gon' let me shine and get mine  
Nigga  
[Chorus]  
[Verse 3: All-Star]  
Look, hatin' ain't healthy, nigga so keep it movin'  
These shots will wake ya whole hood up, I'm sleepin' through it  
Chea, I'm used to it, I done made a gun fire  
Pull the trigger one time, sound like a gun fight  
You was glad I was broke, now ya mad 'cause ya hoe  
Love it when a nigga put it in the back of her throat  
Buck, Hi-see, Murder, and Star, we ain't never scared  
I don't need my pistol in the club, I'll brawl there  
I know hustlers that do deal white  
Jump stupid, find out what these boots feel like  
Yea, y'all know me, All-Star I'm so street (yea)  
What it is, what it ain't, what it gon be  
[Verse 4: Hi-C]  
I don't bust my gun, like a halftime football game  
I aimed straight and I took y'all name  
And ya whole click look all lame  
You can catch me in the house with a pyrex and it cook all caine  
Put that metal in ya mouth, you gon swear I was doctor walls  
I'm in the club with my muthafuckin' glock in drawers  
I had to let my nuts hang, so I dropped my balls  
You ain't hit him wit no bullets nigga shot the walls  
You shoot to scare, I aim and kill  
When I dump on you, they gon think yo brain ain't real  
I'm heavyweight in the game, you featherweight  
When they hear a nigga take a loss, they wanna celebrate  
Bitch  
[Chorus]