[Lyric] Haters (Lloyd Banks)

[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