Haterama

So many faggots to swing the ax at Who do I shoot first? Answer when I make this dead cow feel my boots hurt Whoever's standin' as part of the human pavement Quitters advance, tryin' to rap, the movement's faded Kill like I stuck it in shit Sold ya'll a bucket of shit Even Bobbito said, "Fuck it I quit!" KCR shit me out but you knew that Reflect your crew back, to that late-'90s beat You shouldn't eschew that The biggest pop star in the world threw dirt in my engine But when I say his name I look like Royce tryin' to get attention I know the ledge, 110 stories you been sour The only Boston hits in New York was the Twin Towers It's only right my raps reflect evil My only wish: to trade places with them 3,000 dead people Hindsight Halloween you begged to open up Daddy's Lex, coked it up, on stage chokin' up Dropped the mic and left Cage arrived a hour later Cause the opening acts bore me, epecially them coward haters Eight Jack and Cokes, 7L's gettin' lucky Get to the side of the stage, these groupies tryin' to touch me That's a snuff, no that's a hug, my arm's small Richie Rich got the nerve to steal on me for pub? What was that? Bugs hit windshields harder than that Wasted loot on rap, coulda been through Harvard and back I know you're salty I sold more in Beantown You're obscene, now you're wasting all your label's cream now Trying to get violent, but gay is gay The same day New Yorkers was on mourning JMJ You got no respect, why give it? You don't get it What toy-ass crew can't beat up paramedics Too many cards showing, do you know how to play the game? Throwin' up consecutive bricks like it's your label's name Oops, I guess it is, fuckin' stick to the kegs Your team probably front like they ain't on my dick in your face End your career? shit ain't even started Clean up your style Help out Lif, he holdin' your whole scene up You see the sweat on his face, Eso I know you ain't sweat like that since you sent El-P a demo And his slang is outdated like, "Look I'm butter now" You fatherfuckers still drown in my watered down True, me and your producer got a past beef Either his girl sucked my dick or I wouldn't rock to his trash beats Both, look girls, your health's vital Cop the Nighthawks album, bitch, it's Celph Titled Played your boys idle Every tonight'll seem like you and the cops are tight Shoot up your ankles cuz your socks are white Go teach your pops to fight