Hate Music

[Chorus: Cam'ron]

Ayo, my niggas can't take music

Everybody rap to us, so we hate music

Now we make the hate music

We 'bout to rape music, straight up degrade music

You ain't 18? Shit, don't even play music

Killin' is another high

I hope your girl get AIDS, your brother crash and dash

Or your mother die, and your sister is a topless dancer

No answer, glaucoma, and your pops got cancer

[Verse 1: Juelz Santana]

Yo, I'm a motherfucking nightmare, y'all can either love me or hate me

Know a lotta niggas wanna slug me and waste me

That's why I never keep the gun on safety

When I get this money, y'all gon' hate me

Y'all act like Harlem ain't that shit, go 'head and play dumb

Like y'all don't know where Alpo and Rich Porter came from

Sugar Hill cocaine slums, get it correct

Real niggas spit at your chest, look at your death

Y'all cop Playstations, play 'Live 2000'

I'ma cop guns, try to survive 2000

Nigga like me be on the block every day

While you think your moms look rocked every day

'Cause she come see me for them rocks every day

Keep the thang close, ready to pop every day

'Cause I'm tired of you spot-betters

I got a 380 full of hot peppers, that'll rip through them Cosby sweaters

You dudes is chumps, talkin 'bout you live like thugs

You be home watchin' 'Midnight Love'

No, bitch, you and your hand makin' midnight love

It's over, dog, you need to just give life up...

[Chorus: Cam'ron]

Ayo, my niggas can't take music

Everybody rap to us, so we hate music

Now we make the hate music

We 'bout to rape music, straight up degrade music

You ain't 18? Shit, don't even play music

Killin' is another high

I hope your girl get AIDS, your brother crash and dash

Or your mother die, and your sister is a topless dancer

No answer, glaucoma, and your pops got cancer

[Verse 2: Cam'ron]

I got the gun and clip, runnin' shit

I run chains, run rings, run in your block, make you run

Then I run things

Piss in a cup? Come on, fuck a drug test

I'm on my block, 'Knockout Kings', slugfest

A few beers cold, come through here bold

A few of us blew our goals when fuckin' two years old

Off to the lobby, all to the body, then auction a shottie

Go to Boston and party hard with Walter McCarty

Drunk, smackin' bitches off the Bacardi

Hustle often as robbery, so guns, coppin' double

Fuck around with me, I'ma pop your bubble

Put up my own yellow tape, save the cops the trouble

If you wanna see my true portions, screw bossin'

Kill you like Mike' pop for new Jordans

Come through flossin', jail ain't nothin for me

I got cake, baby, bail ain't nothin' for me

I'm that same son of a B, gun in the V

Coke, guns, hookers – I'm the one that you see

Cats still talkin' fly, put his tongue in a tree

If we nice, then we'll let him keep his lung for a G

When I rap, it ain't nothing but hungry, you see

Jimmy, Juelz, Cam – you'll love one of the three, beeotch

[Chorus: Cam'ron]

Ayo, my niggas can't take music

Everybody rap to us, so we hate music

Now we make the hate music

We 'bout to rape music, straight up degrade music

You ain't 18? Shit, don't even play music

Killin' is another high

I hope your girl get AIDS, your brother crash and dash

Or your mother die, and your sister is a topless dancer

No answer, glaucoma, and your pops got cancer