f*ck ’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*ck 'em (x8) {(f*ck these n*ggas, and f*ck these b*tches)}[x4]
f*ck '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*tch
Oh man, I've been putting on for my n*ggas, 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*ggas gon' act when I pull up in that Maybach with a f*cking chauffeur in the front and a view with b*tches in the back
And they all want me to, (Touch 'em, touch 'em)
And later on I'm gon', (f*ck 'em, f*ck 'em)
I know y'all n*ggas don't like me, tough titty for you broke hoes
Send them n*ggas 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*gga", you got the wrong n*gga 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*t, partner protecting me money ain't nothing
On slam dunk and I ain't playing with you n*ggas, can't sprang at you n*ggas, 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*ggas 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*ck 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*ggas just be talkin' cause they got lips
When I put up them choppers n*ggas 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*ggas in the streets
Who had failure to make payments?
Matter fact, they swimmin' with the fishes
I'ma shark just swimmin' with the b*tches
And I got your girl with my hand on her ass if I'm coming downtown watching Netflix
Young Cash, I'm a real G (n*ggas see it in my eyes)
You tried n*gga 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