[Lyric] Immaculate Perception (8Ball)

[Intro: 8Ball]
They love to hate
Any time, any place
They love to hate
Behind your back and in your face
They love to hate
Every day, all day
They love to hate
Behind your back and in your face

[Verse 1: 8Ball]
Leave one of you niggas stretched out in the middle of the street
Stressed out every day of the week
My only relief when I hear these beats
Smokin’ calms me down
Talk soft but the weed I blow loud
I was hard then, still hard now
Memphis, nigga, that's still my town
Big 4-5, not for show
If you see it, you probably finna die
Don’t run fast, but the bullets in the air
Sound like "shh, shh" when they whizzin' by
Put it in the light, brag it ain't so
My DNA does not contain ho
MJG, my brother for life
No speculation, that’s what I know
Timeless, it don’t die bitch
Long life, strong heart
Hot head, could’ve been dead
Space age, that’s what we are
Bigger than life, Superman
No cape on, with the blunt in my hand
Safety off, I might let one go
Safety off, I might let one go
[Chorus: 8Ball]
I wanna make them happy songs, but it’s not a accurate reflection
I make street poetry with my immaculate perception
Never go nowhere without 4-5, that’s there for my protection
I was rolling up and burning at the time of its conception
And I know that sounds kinda fucked up, y’all
But that’s how I feel, and that’s how I roll
And that’s all I live, and that’s all I know
And it’s what I give, and that’s how it goes

[Verse 2: Waka Flocka Flame]
Twenty thousand eight balls of cocaine
That’s what it cost for the chain
Me and 8Ball in the ass club, they screamin’ out, "Make it rain!"
That’s all I know my dog, ball
I’m a boss like a GD
My life a movie, no TV, I’m fully focused
All my heads in, the breeze feel better in the driver's seat
Don’t preach to me about music
Sayin’, "Waka, step up your lyrics"
Mind your business, I’m eatin’
Big belly, that’s the get-money gut
Flockaveli got me a bulletproof truck
This new-groove clutch got me stuck
Blowin' out the backwoods
Waka Flocka Flame, the ’96 Suge
I do what I wanna, you do what you could
I said ghetto after ghetto, walkin’ block after block
From Craig County, Riverdale, motherfucker
I’m up all night like a trucker
I don’t trust shit, them cops is suckers
Brick Squad Monopoly, that’s the company
I don’t need no company so I'mma let my homies speak
I'mma do me and be myself
If you don’t like that go fuck yourself
[Chorus: 8Ball]

[Verse 3: Yelawolf]
You see this Jack bottle?
That could be the reason that I pulled the motherfucker right out, scared him
And introduced him to my homie Trailer Park
Bare-knuckled to your gold-grip polish
You see this bad model?
She might be the only bitch to ever get you into a situation, Because you hate to see me lookin’ like I do
And still get these number tens, ho
Oh, you a gangster, huh?
Well I never seen a G suckin’ dick
Cause I put it on my fuckin’ list
To fuck up shit in the rap game, and I’m doin’ it
Slumerican's bangin’, huh?
Besides me, you ain’t never gonna fuck with Rittz
And Shawty Fatt'll welcome back into the welcome mat
Young Struggle at the mailbox with the bricks
8Ball, Waka Flocka walking through the sticks
Alabama got a lot of choppers with the clips
And because I know a little bit about this
Yelawolf has got a lot of people talkin’ shit
But it’s everything cause you don’t know about the history
That Michael Wayne has been through, homie
I could've flown to the moon on a bird's back
Before I could jump out and act like a phony
So it really don’t matter to me
What you think about the clothes I put on
It’s my originality
That's got ‘em all acting like clones
Catfish Billy and I'm on some new shit
Don't hate bitch, I can make you rich
Suck dick while I sip Nestle Quik
With my muddy shoes all over you momma's new whip
Yup, Yeller
[Outro: 8Ball]
They love to hate
Any time, any place
They love to hate
Behind your back and in your face
They love to hate