Letra Haterama Cage

Haterama

Yeah, it's haterama... heh, so fuck you.

So many faggots to swing the axe 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
quit as advanced tryin' to rap "the movement's faded"
feel like I stuck it in shit
sold you all the bugginist shit
even bob beetle says "fuck it I quit!"
KCR shit me out but you knew that
reflect your crew back, to that late nineties beat
(voices: "whodat??") the shit they shoot at...
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 a hundred ten stories you been showered
the only thing that got hit from New York was the twin towers
it's only right my raps reflect evil
my only way to trade places with them 3000 dead people
hindsight Halloween you begged to open up
daddy's lex coked it up, on stage chokin' up
dropped the mic and left kids arrived a hour later
cuz the opening acts bore me specially them coward haters
eight jack and cokes 7L's gettin' lucky
get to the side of the stage these groupies tryin' to touch me

(muffled voices... "weatherman comin' through, yeah I love that shit")

What was that? bugs hit winshields harder than that
wasted Ludolph rap could've been through harvard and back
I know you saw a key I sold one Beantown
you're senile wastin' all your label's cream now
tryin' to get violent but gay is gay
the same day new yorkers were served more than j of jay
you got no respect but I give it you don't get it
what toy ass crew can't be the paramedics
too many cards showing did 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 frontin' 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 seen the sweat on his face that's ho
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and his slang is outdated like "look I'm butter now"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 self-titled
played your boys idle every tonight
will seem like you and the cops are tight
chewed up your ankles cuz your socks are white

(* muffled voices *)