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Correct Record Haters Lyrics
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E-40
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Correct Record Haters
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(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 shit. 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] Nigga what the fuck they good for? Nigga let's shoot fins You got all the bread nigga, put up yo Benz Nah-nah, can't do that - Why not? Ol skool trophy Somethin I done worked too hard for, nigga quote me Yo swole bank rolls done turned to lil ol anarxins Get ready to pay the price??? Pee-wee no catchin Who got change for this brand new hundred? Staight outta welfare When I break you niggas I'm a have enough money, to buy a bare fare Spend about a half a hundred thousand Boost up my coins Preceed to spit mo supafly Than Donald Goins This game is so damn hemrigin That I be delivin These niggas don't understand my shit But they surrendurin Simmerin, rememberin things that, done jumped off Lyrics spit on niggas than a, a bad cough Messy hoes, got my name between they teeth Juss because... I'm from the west not the east Graduated from the dope game Phat ass wallets What's that niggas name? Rasheed Wallace!! You gon' have to learn to respect yo elders mayne I'm twomp bait nigga ain't no need for you to record hate Mind ya own, or ya own gon remind you Nigga!! The Click will biatch! Chorus: Big Lurch & E-40 Record Hatin bitches! Suave game and snitches! (Learn about it bitch!) We should cease you from existance. (That's right) Niggas like that shouldn't be livin. (Mutha fucka!) Ya Record Hatin bitches (Trademark.) There's no way you could get wit this (Stick to basketball nigga!) We should cease you from existance Niggas like that shouldn't be livin. (Biatch!) [E-40] Got another muthafucka on my shit 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 Nigga said some negative shit about me up in a magazine called " After watchin "New York Undercover" while I was, takin a shit Kool Keith was on the front cover that's when I That's when I spotted him That nigga az tried to say that I don't deserve a platinum plaque Nigga I was sellin tapes out the trunk of my car When you was runnin round drinkin Simalac All up in yo fake ass videos (ok) Champagne an coffin full of skrill Nigga know damn well yo punk ass ain't got had no mills I'm payin full nigga an I'll have yo head where ever you at I'm straight fool nigga seem like someone shoulda been an told ya That bring the yellow tape nigga, jungle full of asphalt Don't make no sense to talk that talk If a nigga ain't gon' walk that walk Zip up yo lip befo' yo lip zip you up Biatch! Biatch! I gives a fuck! Biatch! It's major pain. Nigga don't know a damn thang about me. You mutha fuckas don't know nuttin bout no E-40 hoe! Monkey mouthed biatch! Biatch! *(Chorus)* Record Hatin bitches! Suave game and snitches! (Learn about it bitch!) We should cease you from existance. (That's right) Niggas like that shouldn't be livin. (Shouldn't be livin.) Ya Record Hatin bitches! (Record Hatin bitches!) There's no way you could get wit this (Uh.) We should cease you from existance (V-Town bitch!) Niggas like that shouldn't be livin. (E'ry time) [E-40] When I first started off niggas had me fucked, muthafuckas was blind In '89 that ol "Mr. Flamboyant" shit 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 muthafucka 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 nigga, But a nigga 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 niggas 3X Krazy laced me Taught me how to say "fa sheezy" Told me that them az muthafuckas 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 bitch! *(Chorus)* Record Hatin bitches! (Record hatin bitches!) Suave game and snitches! (Suave game and snitches!) We should cease you from existance. (That's rich.) Niggas like that shouldn't be livin. (Suck-els!) Ya Record Hatin bitches (Lil ol, biatch!) There's no way you could get wit this (That's right.) We should cease you from existance (Learn about it.) Niggas like that shouldn't be livin. (That's right.)
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