Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Haterama, artist - Cage. Album song Weatherproof, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 09.06.2003
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Eastern Conference
Song language: English
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, that’s all |
| 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| And his slang is outdated like, «Look I’m butter now» |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 |
| BOAST: look girls, your health’s vital |
| Cop the Nighthawks album, bitches, Celph Titled |
| Played your boys idle |
| Every tonight’ll seem like you and the cops are tight |
| Shoot up your ankles cause your socks are white |
| Go teach your pops to fight |