He Hates My Guts - Cash Kidd

I ain’t gon' lie, nigga, have you ever just wondered like\nWhy the fuck is this nigga hatin' on me so hard? Like\nThen it be like a nigga bully you done bullied in middle school or elementary\nA nigga who just lame as hell, dirty as hell, cuz, like, the fuck?\nThen you think about it, think about the nigga life\nLike shit, no wonder\nAyy\nSometimes I wanna ask a nigga, «Why you hatin' on me?»\nBut then I think about his life and that’s a statement for me\nSometimes I wanna ho these niggas, but end up prayin' for 'em\nYou really made him grab his scale and put an eighthy on it?\nI’m showin' off just for the opps, I know they day get lonely\nI’m in they group chat gettin' off, feel like they favorite cousin\nI’m finna buy my mom a house so y’all can make more fun\nI fucked his bitch and slapped his mans, he really hate my guts\nI’m ridin' in a bulletproof, boy, get your paper up\nYour bitch showed me her special trick, but she ain’t fake a punt\nShe love the gang, every Thanksgiving got a plate for us\nHer mama made banana pudding, told her save me some\nIt broke my heart to cut you off 'cause you couldn’t make me nut\nThe smallest shit hurt me the most just like a papercut\nEMPIRE sent so many wires, I could fuck cable up\nKillers and scammers, boy, I mix crowds like Brady Bunch\nI cut her off and said it’s me, I need to change myself\nFavorite eater just got married, finna hang myself\nNiggas mad in the club, broke, fake smilin'\nBoy, ask around, I wore your birthday 'fit to McDonalds\nI did this without no help, niggas can’t compare us\nFeel like the New York Jets, boy, don’t play, we airin'\nUgly throwaway on me, had to tape the barrel\nBlick got rust on the arm, but it ain’t Ciara\nI need like fifty more M’s 'fore I think 'bout marriage\nHad to make 'em understand, niggas think I’m Harriet\nTwo hundred on my neck, boy, I don’t wanna talk to that\nWe do not know your musty ass, don’t even walk this way\nI hit the ho that he been crushin' on since middle school\nShe broke his puny lil' heart, I’m mad she did that to him\nIt really irritate this dork inside to hear my music\nI missed out on a corny fan, that nigga seemed the coolest\nI’m clutchin' on that bitch right now, but I don’t think you stupid\nI shoot a nigga in these pointers, now they think I’m cupid\nI had a threesome with the Wock', I’m mixin' juices\nBoy, your bands immature like Marques Houston\nI made M’s from all my hustles, jack of all trades\nScammed a goofy, I couldn’t help it, he just walked lame\nTurned the ho into a boss and now we all paid\nI’m jumpin' in the crowd like a baseball game\nSometimes I wanna ask a nigga, «Why you hatin' on me?»\nBut then I think about his life and that’s a statement for me\nSometimes I wanna ho these niggas, but end up prayin' for 'em\nYou really made him grab his scale and put an eighthy on it?\nI’m showin' off just for the opps, I know they day get lonely\nI’m in they group chat gettin' off, feel like they favorite cousin\nI’m finna buy my mom a house so y’all can make more fun\nI fucked his bitch and slapped his mans, he really hate my guts