Quit Hatin'(Pt. 1)-Too $hort

Quit Hatin'(Pt. 1) - Too hort Yea, yea, e-YEAHHHH! O-kayyyyyy what, what? Wha', what, what? Lil' Jon and the motherf**kin Eastside Boyz! (Yeahhhh) Short Dawg! (YeahHHH) Once again at yo' a** (YEAHHHH!) B**ch!! (Yeah!) This go out to all the p**sy niggaz (listen here) That see us when we walk in the club (whassup) And just be mean muggin! Lil' Jon Lil' Jon Quit hatin motherf**ker, quit hatin! Quit hatin p**sy ni**a, quit hatin! God damnit motherfackahhh God damnit motherfackahhh High cause I'm tokin the choke and smokin on Purple Haze and I'm coughin Got some new Nike's on my feet, even my Caddy wear Jordans Now b**ches be on my dick when I pull up in a platinum blue 'llac They come and spread they a** crack, let me hit it from the back On the flo', they bend over, shake them titties and twurk them hips With them lil' ol' thongs on, I can almost see they coochie lips And she backin that thing up on me, so I do the damn thing and pop her With a lil' curl that ha-hangin proper, drunk off champagne and vodka Just cause it's us in the club they krunk, it's $hort and Twista And I know the ladies know we love to cut, I can tell it when they whisper They say See the ballin niggaz in the party They came in new Escalades And I got a single, wanna get up in the lobby I'm with that, come freak all in my body, it's on We about to break your back and your hip Smoke a sack and just sip Sit back and eat some immaculate shrimp Stackin chips as a mack and a pimp, in the club you gon' bounce But on the streets, my dro' goin for, six hundred a ounce Show me love when you see me, don't hate If you take my woman from me, what you gon' say? Charge it to the game, if I lose, I lose You never know when a hoe is wearin choosy shoes You must be a magician cause you're nothin but a trick Tryin to give her all your money, but whatchu gon' get? I get 'em all, suited at the player's ball Up against the wall, just got another number to call Y'all see me I'm a real player, I do this nightly You wanna fight me, cause you can't be like me All you hatin a** suckers in the place You better stop starin in my motherf**kin face Too many jealous thoughts goin through yo' mind You mad like you guilty, goin to do some time Pay yo' p**sy bill ni**a if you want a date But you just talkin sh*t I figure you just wanna hate You hater! Now you can catch me I-80 in the diamond lane gettin head In the rearview, make a wrong move and I gotsta have your head I put 23's in the game on the Avalanche and give you the blues And blow white smoke up out the sunroof while we keep it on cruise I ride with a hog in the back and the vogue in the back and you hatin on that It's just V. White, T. $hort, Twista boy we blazin on track It's just that Eastside psycho-chronological mind-stopper Keep a burner at yo' waist while we serve these haters proper You better get up, get out, get somethin; ni**a, and stop frontin If I had no car and stayed with my momma then I'd be hatin on somethin Nah but nope, not me, I give 'em out, above the knee You could catch one in the torso, b-2-1-2, f**kin with me Now you can hate me all you want to cause I ain't hard to find I got hitters on payroll and parolees dyin to shine That'll leave a hole in your dome like Rogaine, old school like road games You can't stop me from shinin, I'm highly flammable like propane Yeah we got some real players in this motherf**ker Too $hort, Twista, V. White, Lil' Jon, Eastside Boyz, Delinquents Yeah we see you haters up in this motherf**ker Tryin to kick it like us real players But you know what we gon' do? We gon' sift you motherf**kin haters out And we gon' beat yo' motherf**kin a** Yeah that's right, whup that hater's a** Beat his a**! Like he stole somethin. Quit hatin motherf**ker, quit hatin! Now slow it down for the retarded people