Haters

[Verse 1: Lloyd Banks]

You already know what it is, and you know what I got

And I know how it feel, it feel like somethin' hot

I'm, clean as a Kodak; mean, and you know that

Murder you niggas with a sixteen throwback

Lean in my old 'lac; label, the bungalow's at

Humble and all that; old money's my door mat

They on my balls at, even before rap

It's time to let the monster loose; even the score back

I need a cooler coupe

A Honolulu shoot, where the bitches dance like they inside a hula-hoop

The teacher; for a few mil I'll tudor dude

Front and see a man with a mask, you won't know who to shoot

I'm callin' you the fruit, you softer than noodle soup, or baby shit

You niggas are startin' to make me sick

This is the latest twist, add it to my greatest hits

It ain't for the radio, but they gon' still play this shit

[Hook: Lloyd Banks]

I must admit, that I'm the shit

Just day-dreamin' 'bout the money I can get

I got a shoulder with a chip, and I rock it in my whip

Cause niggas act funny when they come around here

You's a hater; you hate that I'm fresh, hate that I'm fly

Hate that I'm real, hate that I ride

[Verse 2: Lloyd Banks]

One's for how I live, two's for the corner kids

Headin' to where cocaine and marijuana lives

Niggas trick they re-up money on Gabbana gifts

I ain't got time for this, rap blind novelist

Catch me in a club makin' two top models kiss

Chronic and a little cranberry to mix my bottle with

This that powder fiends gotta sniff, gotta try

Pardon me, I can't let a dollar by

Holla my name, it's a problem

No peace talks, no daps, just wildin'

I'm ridin' 'round stylin', so they racial profilin'

Brad Pitt tints, lookin' at the pigs smilin'

Still four cal'n, in case it get violent

I'm tryin' to get on, capitalize on my talent

It's all balanced, and I'm here to accept the challenge

Switch islands, and watch them green things pilin'; smilin'

[Hook: Lloyd Banks]

I must admit, that I'm the shit

Just day-dreamin' 'bout the money I can get

I got a shoulder with a chip, and I rock it in my whip

Cause niggas act funny when they come around here

You's a hater; you hate that I'm fresh, hate that I'm fly

Hate that I'm real, hate that I ride

[Verse 3: Lloyd Banks]

Forty-eight acres and a mule

I'm mullin' on a mansion and a very big pool

The youth don't care, and I feel the same way, too

A product of hard livin', and how it makes you

Determine if it ain't about nothin', I don't listen

I got power over everything I put my dick in

Which means if I was pimpin', I'd have 'em by the boat

Shackles around their ankles, and chains around their throat; I'm no joke

I can't go broke; I like to smoke

I got a cold, and money's the antidote

I got a Scarface remote, and a chopper in the vault

Cause niggas ain't shit, and feel like it's my fault

You can have it how you want: bus ticket or the trunk

I'll leave your whole life in the conditions of a punk

I ain't hear shots, cause I don't listen to the junk

They ain't gon' do shit, niggas just like to front

[Hook: Lloyd Banks]

I must admit, that I'm the shit

Just day-dreamin' 'bout the money I can get

I got a shoulder with a chip, and I rock it in my whip

Cause niggas act funny when they come around here

You's a hater; you hate that I'm fresh, hate that I'm fly

Hate that I'm real, hate that I ride