OMB Peezy – WHOLE LOTTA HATERS Lyrics
OMB Peezy – WHOLE LOTTA HATERS Lyrics
Ay, gotta whole lotta haters
F— that, this a whole lotta paper
Got a youngin in the bay, gotta keep four scraper
my whole team eating, lotta money on the table
My cuz in the pen, got whole lotta razors
Bring ’em to my house this a whole lotta acres
Everybody chase the b—-, I’m unable (yeah)
Ain’t about to chase a b—-, but I’m tired
B—- think I’m coming home, but I’m out
Said I need to drink alone, but I’m not
Let a n—- try me, he gon’ lie
Let a n—- try me, then it’s a headshot
I got a red glock, call it fire
Lil b—- head proper, she a bedrocker
And the head doctor ain’t gon’ lie
Heard a lil n—- talkin’ to the feds, ge gon’ need every doctor in the city
Seen my young n—- bust a n—- brain
While I’m at wape sippin’ up some henny
B—-, I was broke, going thru some thangs
Locked up in them chains, nobody did send me
[?], a n—- got a lil fame, they scraming my name
And askin’ to take pictures with me
My momma keep askin’ what I’m getting into
Almost got caught with a pistol at school
Riding with something that’s bigger than you
You ain’t listening to me, what you listening to
Every night, I gotta pray that I make it
They pray that I don’t why the f— they won’t take me
Whenever I go, you will never replace me
Put holes in a f— n—-, mad like jason
Ay, you gotta whole lotta haters
F— that, this a whole lotta paper
Got a youngin in the bay, gotta keep four scraper
my whole team eating, lotta money on the table
My cuz in the pen, got whole lotta razors
Bring ’em to my house this a whole lotta acres
Think I’m ’bout to chase a b—-, I’m unable (yeah)
Everybody chase the b—-, but I’m tired
B—- think I’m coming home, but I’m out
Said I need to drink alone, but I’m not
Let a n—- try me, he gon’ lie
Let a n—- try me, then it’s a headshot
I got a red glock, call it fire
Lil b—- head proper, she a bedrocker
And the head doctor ain’t gon’ lie
Got a red glock, believe in headshots
You wanna take me, then you can try
I put your big homie in a headlock
Just a young n—-, but he know what I’m ’bout
I got a lotta haters and a lotta papers
And them crackers, they want me to fry
But you know my lawyer tank, her name Clair Way
She a real beast, I ain’t gon’ lie
Ay, if you see what I seen, you would cry
All this s— I’ve seen got me feeling old
No matter what, you ain’t takin’ my life
You ain’t taking my soul
Ay, I gotta stay with a pole, yeah
Missing my dawg, and I mean that I miss him
I’m praying that they let my dawg out the system
Ain’t trippin’ that I gotta whole lotta haters
F— it, I got a whole lotta pistols, ay
Ay, you gotta whole lotta haters
F— that, this a whole lotta paper
Got a youngin in the bay, gotta keep four scraper
my whole team eating, lotta money on the table
My cuz in the pen, got whole lotta razors
Bring ’em to my house this a whole lotta acres
Think I’m ’bout to chase a b—-, I’m unable (yeah)
Everybody chase the b—-, but I’m tired
B—- think I’m coming home, but I’m out
Said I need to drink alone, but I’m not
Let a n—- try me, he gon’ lie
Let a n—- try me, then it’s a headshot
I got a red glock, call it fire
Lil b—- head proper, she a bedrocker
And the head doctor ain’t gon’ lie
