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hitman - mr. player hater lyrics

[verse 1: mally mal]
uh, i got these playa haters on my back
they talking about they love my raps and sh-t
but to these hoes, y’all try to cap
y’all be acting like it’s cool, but on the real though
you choppin’ up something, not giving a fade up on the blunt
so what the f-ck?
you be to the hating, and a test to be taken but you know
i’m out the door, with the tecs and the macs and the .44
like red october, smoke a blunt for the hunt for the body bags
bring it to the ear, all i got is a cot, n-gga, and you got mad
you got to yelling and screaming and crying
talking about she hating the mally mal from the b-a-y, yeah, cali-cal
but shut that sh-t up, pop the trunk for the funk if you wanna dump
not giving a f-ck, just popping in caps and blasting, catch these bucks
motherf-ckers, they be like taking it to the streets
not loving and hugging these hoes, i be that mack in the black with the .44
money, clothes, and the indo, all a cola knows
be hanging with players from messy o to the f-ckin ‘sco, n-gga

[chorus]
mr. player hater, is it a must you hate me?
because i mack a hoe and crack a hoe so crazy
mr. player hater, is it a must you hate me?
is it my clothes, is it my dough?
or maybe because i f-cked your hoe
mr. player hater, is it a must you hate me?
because i mack a hoe and crack a hoe so crazy
mr. player hater, is it a must you hate me?
is it my clothes, is it my dough?
or maybe because i f-cked your hoe

[verse 2: mo tha hustla]
man, f-ckin’ with these haters, man, they hate to see you come up
they waitin’ ’til they deep in the streets, that’s when they try to run up
like the ones that used to be on cool back in school
but n-ggas change a threat so i gotsta pack a tool
and it’s always fools that broke, that try to scope you up and down with the frown
especially n-ggas when you chilling out of town
i see the jealousy in they eyes ’cause frisco n-ggas be ballin’
never stallin’, when we 9 milli armin’
so be about your fetti if you’re ready
’cause you’re steady woofin’ to these hoes
turn to foes and catch a f-cking -ss-whooping
’cause i’m a n-gga on high, i’ll light your fire any night or season
hate me if you want, just let the funk be the reason

[verse 3 hitman]
it’s sorta like fright night when i creep and crawl
climbing the wall, lose my f-ckin’ temper
(hitman don’t crash) nah, i just mash, bump him like a fender
shiver me timbers, man, i flip the mic sorta like an acrobat
better yet when i’m on a track, i do like close to about 8 laps
man that’s overdrive when a player like me like creepin’ with my 5-point toes
you try’s to get at me because you ain’t but 5-point hoes
(when i stroll) i’m like that problem child up to no good
man, i take it to the chin, to the jaw, to the eye, you’re seeing more stars than hollywood
would i, grab my auto, take more parts than kragen
you’ll be beggin’ when i shoot it like we like housing authority out sweepin’ them streets
(get him) he’s a loner (can you hit him?), he’s a goner
n-gga, don’t beware of the dog, cat, beware of the owner
‘cause the drop from the .45 is like a warning, you do not step
man, i’m like that three strike law, n-gga, i’m in effect
where’s your vest? huh, i do not show appreciation
treat a n-gga like a shoe, to the chair i lace them

- hitman lyrics

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