Hate Me Now lyrics

by

Cam’ron


[Intro: Jim Jones + Cam'ron]
I heard n*ggas talkin' reckless
Man, y'all talkin' out the side of your mouth, n*gga
Y'all n*ggas is faggots, straight pus*y
Word to my mother, I'll put my foot in your ass, n*gga
No homo, n*gga, what's really good?
Jim Jones, Capo status, East side, fool
Dipset riders, n*gga, when we catch you, we gon' slap that Kufi straight off your mothaf*ckin' head
Any other problems, n*gga? You know Harlem gon' ride out, n*gga
Harlem, y'all act like I wasn't gon' stand up
I wish you would, n*gga
It's nothin'
When the dogs catch you, it's over, you're straight food, n*gga
Everybody wanna be king of the city, right
When I come, n*gga, y'all n*ggas better be real calm, n*gga
It's nothin', we just livin', millionaire status shorty
When you f*ckin' with the don, you f*ckin' with the Jones, you heard, n*gga?
Y'all with me? Harlem! Diplomats! Let's ride out
It's gangstas over here, Harlem hear me with you, Killa, east side

[Verse: Cam'ron]
Ayo, this lil’ n*gga Nas think he live like me
Drove 5’s, shot 5, flipped pies like me?
Nah, Cam gonna blast, I done ran through his past
And I ran for the mag, Taliban on your ass!
You’re terry cloth, that means very soft
Thanks Jay, Carm’s the bomb, broke her cherry off!
Severely massacred, we really gonna laugh at ya
The MAC-Milli blast at ya, you really run to Africa
Stupid, sucker for love, home plenty
Nelson, Mandela, we all boned Winnie!
sh*t, I come over and fight
You a lame, you forgot over the night
Yo, your career’s over like Mike
Any one, Tyson, Jordan, Jackson
Ask Dunn about my mean deals
Frizzle steam, triple beam, cripple teams
When you seen money in Queensbridge? Never
I used to catch the tunnel
Lil E, Vernon side, I gave him packs and bundles
How many grams in an ounce?
How many ounces in an eighth
How many eighths in a key
Shorty, stay in your place
Before the AK’s in your face
Take your daughter, R Kelly, have my way with her face!
And your mom’s a whip wop head
And you claim to be a hip-hop head?
Ooh wop, two shots in his hip-hop head
This way the whole world know that hip-hop's dead! (Killa!)
Roc-A-Fella, hip-hop bread
50 thou' a night, holla back, hit my spread
You wack, you twisted, your girl's a ho
You’re broke, the kid ain’t yours and everybody know
Your mans even tell you, you be like, “So?
I love my baby mother, I never let her go”
Stupid…
[Outro: Jim Jones]
That's right, n*gga, we gon' get our spread, n*gga
That's a dumb percent of that for me, n*gga
So you know I'm ridin' for that, n*gga
Country bum ass f*ck, don't even know how to rock rocks
I caught you with them two rocks on your wrist, n*gga
Next time it's gon' be killin', n*gga
Trust me, man, I'ma clap you in flowers, you faggot
You ain't even relyin' on your own hood, n*gga
You know where we at, n*gga!
140th and Lenox, 15th and 7th, n*gga
All our jewels, n*gga, trust me, man, we glitterin'
Faggot, you punk, you f*ckin' pus*y hermaphrodite
Straight homo, pus*y ass n*gga with a di*k, n*gga
You got meek, n*gga, word to
Man got me so mothaf*ckin' hot, n*gga, I'm just gon' calm down, man
Yo Killa, fall back on these chumps and let's explain to them a few things they need to learn better, n*gga
Holla, east side the gangstas for sure
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