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lirik lagu hatin niggas – cash click boog

[intro: cash cl!ck boog]
look me in my face

[chorus: cash cl!ck boog]
i swear i hate n-ggas, i hate n-ggas like a motherf-cker
fake n-ggas like a motherf-cker, look me in my face
look through these karate frames i can see this hate
it don’t matter ’cause it’s money in the safe, why they mad?
i did it on my own, why they mad?
ain’t n0body put me on, why they mad?
gmc, we too busy gettin’ cash
they just mad ’cause i’m runnin’ up a bag

[verse 1: cash cl!ck boog]
why they hatin’ on me? they hatin’ on me ’cause they not me
i hate n-ggas like a n-z-
get that bag, i can’t let n0body stop me
disrespect and we gon’ rock ’em, that’s real talk
it ain’t never been a thing to let that steel talk
syrup, ain’t no smirnoff, pints, pop the seal off
you ain’t never hustled if you never took a real loss
trappin’, i ain’t got no time to chill dog, make it count
blower on me, i can’t let these n-ggas play me out
bands in my prp’s, bands in my bank account
i’m still lookin’ at my daughter, got me blankin’ out
i gotta get us out the hood, that’s all i think about
i keep a shooter, he gon’ shoot it if he take it out
sleepin’ bags, yellow crime scene, tape him out
i know some n-ggas that ain’t make it out
that’s why it’s on me, i can’t never go a day without
i talk it like i walk it, play it like i say it
but we gettin’ money n-gga, get that through your head
cash cl!ck, more problems, more bread
keep your plate p-ssy, we already fed, hatin’ n-gga

[verse 2: cash cl!ck boog]
i ain’t never dropped no dime, why they mad?
went to jail and did my time, why they mad?
that’s why i hate n-ggas
why you hatin’, you a fake n-gga
and fake n-ggas f-ck with fake n-ggas
i got some shooters in the hole that ain’t gon’ play with you
and if your n-ggas got your back then they can lay with you
got my block pimpin’ like az, ballin’ like jay-z
and you be switchin’ teams like kd
all this money in my pocket look crazy
cash cl!ck sh-t, army and navy, gettin’ stupid cash
every time they send them bales in, we move ’em fast
quit hating and go get a bag with your boosie -ss
still thinkin’ ’bout them times when i was doin’ bad
broke and i ain’t have a dime, i ain’t know who to ask
now i do the ballys belt with the shoes to match
me and sal walkin’ out of saks, we just blew a bag
on mamas i’m gettin’ guap, on mamas i got it locked
on everything i’m a l!ck, i promise it’s one up top
sold out, it’s gonna throw some fifty pointers in the watch
never bummin’, we be spendin’ h-lla money, f-ck the opps

[verse 3: philthy rich]
i say i’m runnin’ up a bag, you just runnin’ up a check
you better pay them people ‘fore they repo his jet
stop speakin’ on the past and all the sh-t you used to have
b-tch i’m ballin’ right now, a hundred thousand, all cash
salute to cash cl!ck, b-tch i’m in the fast whip
fresh off the lot, paper tags and m-n-scripts
all these foreigns in my garage, look like i manufacture whips
n-ggas love you when you broke and then they hate you when you rich
sem city in this b-tch, a hundred thousand on my wrist
i was really in them trenches, public housing in the rich
yeah this cheese for police, want a n-gga off the streets
all i did was motivate n-ggas to get up off the streets
money on the table, endorsmenets from cookies and strideline
they just want a n-gga sittin’ on the sideline
before you sign a deal you better read the fine line
for a broke b-tch, i could never find time
any n-gga out of oakland, i bet i motivate ’em
and if that n-gga ain’t feelin’ me then he just a hater
see i was locked up in elmwood with d-boy
a lot of n-ggas be p-ssy, no they ain’t street boy

- cash click boog

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