About This Track
"Hate Music" is a track by Cam'ron, from the album DJ Clue Presents: Backstage Mixtape (Music Inspired by the Film), released 29th August 2000. Full lyrics are available below.
Lyrics
[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
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