(feat. JT Tha Bigga Figga, San Quinn)



Yo JT tell her to give me a 7 UP man

Hey, hey that bitch tripping man, hey bring us some drinks hoe

Man that show was liver than a motherfucker they was loving us

Man it was large as shit



[Verse 1: JT the Bigga Figga]



Check the sickness, forget this game that you missing

So I understand you had a plan to rip up potential

Players in the game without no shame to fault me

Realize that they surprised that you tried to salt me

I  backed up off ya, I seen ya coming

Doing a 100 or more running, so now I'm gunning

If you try to play them players nigga than you getting played

Keeping my game tight so short like a razor blade

Afraid of who is what you ask me

Just because you got your mac10 ready to blast me

And pass me up as if you didn't know

Representing getting low, P nigga hit the floor



[Verse 2: Master P]



Sideways through the cut with the gold one's spinning

Suckers jealous cause they know the P is deep up in it

On my way to Filmore to see JT

We ain't set tripping its all about some dope beats

But you got to watch your back for them perpetrators

Imitators man I mean player haters

You know the type, that's quick to fucking give you dap

And all the while, they ready to fucking peel your cap

And if ya don't understand don't test me

Cause the P ain't living fucking nappy

I'll leave some motherfucking flowers at your gravesite

And make love to your bitch almost every night

Caught you slipping and you died like a perpetrator

On your tombstone should read player hater



[Chorus]



I ain't saying no names

Its alot of player haters ain't true to the game



[Verse 3: Master P]



Player haters in ya face wanna talk and laugh

Same fool in the hood with a ski mask

Don't move don't budge don't even flinch

Caught you slipping so they going for your dividends

I should put you on your back once they get your scraps

Cause they know a nigga like you is living fat

And as you stroll in the 4, cause life is cold

But don't trip cause that's just a bad episode

That life in the ghetto ain't no joke

At sometime you die in this game for selling dope

But if you don't sell dope, than you gotta kick it

And them same hoes, they wanna fucking kick it



[Verse 4: San Quinn]



Do you wanna ride to this or do you wanna side to this

Just a young baby boy coming with the flyest shit

Get you higher than that chronic can bring ya

Lets hit that niggas field

Coming from your shoulders, now you reaching for your steel

My ?? of real is a step away from nothing happened

Pick up the mic and get to rapping

Stepping like the?? making all these hoes something vicious

Not even these playa haters can identify my sickness

You taking winners to ?? while I caught myself

Hit the cuts and came up with legitimate wealth

From the ?? hardest city by the Bay

Busting rhymes, dropping nines dropping simply for a payday

Had his rest to make way

Before I break him down with the og russian cickle

When the shit don't tickle

My show won't pickle and I ain't no buster

You player hating niggas better stay away from a real hustler



And its like that for the 94 nigga



[x3]



And its like that and its like that

And you player hating niggas don't like that