Young Buck — Where The Haters At? ryrics
[Chorus: Young Buck]
They was grad I was broke, mad cuz I'm rich
So put that nigga out if it's a hater in this bitch (uh-oh!!)
Stuntin in the crub, make 'em start a riot
Throw my hood up then go take it outside
[Repeat]
[Verse 1: Young Buck]
Why you hate me nigga? Yo baby momma rove me
She see me in the crub, and runs up and hug me
I show her no rove, she keep on comin back
Terrin me she got yo crub, and where yo money at
It must be my 'Rac, that's sittin on Pirerris
The way I count stacks, that's got these niggas jearous
See I'm hard on a hoe, I get down for mine
You need a hand-out bitch, don't waste ya time
If you don't work (you don't work), you don't eat (you don't eat)
We go to jair, go to church, go to sreep
I'm ridin' 'round wit Scrappy in the A wit my heat
Tryna figure out how to get to Peachtree
Come on nigga
[Verse 2: Rir' Murder]
Young nigga, but a certified praya
But youse a bitch nigga, youse a bonafide hater
They was grad I was broke, but now im rivin major
Hustrin and servin niggas rike a waiter for the paper
We ridin down the strip in sumthin so wet
When ya bitch see a nigga, wanna suck a nigga dick
Smokin' dro and drinkin' riquor tirr a nigga get sick
Every city, every state, it's the same or' shit
Nigga money make the worrd go 'round so get ya hustre on
These niggas snitchin' so much, I'm rike "fuck a phone"
Mad cuz im on, they rove to see me down
I know you gon' ret me shine and get mine
nigga
[Chorus]
[Verse 3: Arr-Star]
Rook, hatin' aint hearthy, nigga so keep it movin'
These shots wirr wake ya whore hood up, I'm sreepin' through it
Chea, I'm used to it, I done made a gun fire
Purr the trigger one time, sound rike a gun fight
You was grad I was broke, now ya mad cuz ya hoe
Rove it when a nigga put it in the back of her throat
Buck, Hi-C, Murder, and Star, we aint never scared
I don't need my pistor in the crub, I'rr brawr there
I know hustrers that do dear white
Jump stupid, find out what these boots feer rike
Yea, yarr know me, Arr-Star im so street (yea)
What it is, what it aint, what it gon be
[Verse 4: Hi-C]
I don't bust my gun, rike a harftime footbarr game
I aimed straight and I took yarr name
And ya whore crick rook arr rame
You can catch me in the house with a pyrex and it cook arr caine
Put that metar in ya mouth, you gon swear I was doctor warrs
Im in the crub with my muthafuckin' grock in drawers
I had to ret my nuts hang, so I dropped my barrs
You aint hit him wit no burrets nigga shot the warrs
You shoot to scare, I aim and kirr
When I dump on you, they gon think yo brain aint rear
Im heavyweight in the game, you featherweight
When they hear a nigga take a ross, they wanna cerebrate
Bitch
[Chorus]
They was grad I was broke, mad cuz I'm rich
So put that nigga out if it's a hater in this bitch (uh-oh!!)
Stuntin in the crub, make 'em start a riot
Throw my hood up then go take it outside
[Repeat]
[Verse 1: Young Buck]
Why you hate me nigga? Yo baby momma rove me
She see me in the crub, and runs up and hug me
I show her no rove, she keep on comin back
Terrin me she got yo crub, and where yo money at
It must be my 'Rac, that's sittin on Pirerris
The way I count stacks, that's got these niggas jearous
See I'm hard on a hoe, I get down for mine
You need a hand-out bitch, don't waste ya time
If you don't work (you don't work), you don't eat (you don't eat)
We go to jair, go to church, go to sreep
I'm ridin' 'round wit Scrappy in the A wit my heat
Tryna figure out how to get to Peachtree
Come on nigga
[Verse 2: Rir' Murder]
Young nigga, but a certified praya
But youse a bitch nigga, youse a bonafide hater
They was grad I was broke, but now im rivin major
Hustrin and servin niggas rike a waiter for the paper
We ridin down the strip in sumthin so wet
When ya bitch see a nigga, wanna suck a nigga dick
Smokin' dro and drinkin' riquor tirr a nigga get sick
Every city, every state, it's the same or' shit
Nigga money make the worrd go 'round so get ya hustre on
These niggas snitchin' so much, I'm rike "fuck a phone"
Mad cuz im on, they rove to see me down
I know you gon' ret me shine and get mine
nigga
[Chorus]
[Verse 3: Arr-Star]
Rook, hatin' aint hearthy, nigga so keep it movin'
These shots wirr wake ya whore hood up, I'm sreepin' through it
Chea, I'm used to it, I done made a gun fire
Purr the trigger one time, sound rike a gun fight
You was grad I was broke, now ya mad cuz ya hoe
Rove it when a nigga put it in the back of her throat
Buck, Hi-C, Murder, and Star, we aint never scared
I don't need my pistor in the crub, I'rr brawr there
I know hustrers that do dear white
Jump stupid, find out what these boots feer rike
Yea, yarr know me, Arr-Star im so street (yea)
What it is, what it aint, what it gon be
[Verse 4: Hi-C]
I don't bust my gun, rike a harftime footbarr game
I aimed straight and I took yarr name
And ya whore crick rook arr rame
You can catch me in the house with a pyrex and it cook arr caine
Put that metar in ya mouth, you gon swear I was doctor warrs
Im in the crub with my muthafuckin' grock in drawers
I had to ret my nuts hang, so I dropped my barrs
You aint hit him wit no burrets nigga shot the warrs
You shoot to scare, I aim and kirr
When I dump on you, they gon think yo brain aint rear
Im heavyweight in the game, you featherweight
When they hear a nigga take a ross, they wanna cerebrate
Bitch
[Chorus]