(Paris)
Now what would you do, if I blast
all up in yo' shit, motherfuck the whole staff
Niggaz know I flow, nine millimeter shittin slugs
I'm seein bloody bodies on the motherfuckin rug
Six o'clock be the time if it's on let it be
You see it in my eyes, ridin through, hella deep
See, bitch you ain't gon' do me like you did Da Lench Mob
I'm decorated in this game, I played too motherfuckin long
Now - I ain't gotta name nobody name
All I'm knowin is the whole fuckin roster is complainin
Talkin bout these white boys tryin to do promotion
And white bitches tryin to get fucked by these soldiers
Talkin with that slang like you down but now hold on
See now that's enough to get yo' devil-ass stole on
Fuckin with the wrong nigga, playin with my cash
I'm known for puttin devils on they motherfuckin back
Blast through the front do', what the fuck I'm 'posed to talk?
Fuck court, I'll be a dead nigga 'fore you walk
Brownout at nine, had no motherfuckin mercy
So who the sexy nigga, bitch record label murder
(Chorus)
(nigga label murder) Now we fin' to start some shit
(that nigga fin' to start) Motherfuckers shoulda quit
(better have a nigga money) Out for each and every dime
Seem like everytime I turn around
some janky motherfucker tryin to take what's mine
(nigga label murder) Got the whole fuckin click
(that nigga fin' to start) Now we fin' to start some shit
(better have a nigga money) Got these niggaz out the zoo for the job
Bow down, motherfucker you can die when we start robbin
(Paris)
So many times I seen these niggaz fucked up out they chips
Cause they didn't know the game, only makin 10 percent
Dealin with these fuckin jews, now you losin everytime
How many platinum niggaz standin in the county line
Make you wanna get your brick and snatch his ass up out the car
Baby renegotiate, fuckin with them Scars
Now you askin who I'm talkin bout, homey you can pick
This whole industry got nigga shit on whitey dick
And then since I'm a soldier known to speak my fuckin mind
I'ma put you up on game, everytime I start to rhyme
Fuck that devil get yo' own man, learn about some shit
Or be another broke nigga, tellin what he did
And now I think you know, that I really gives a FUCK
Fear no evil cause I'm God, let that devil try his luck
Last man standin up, for the truth, say you heard it
These players gettin played homey, record label murder
(Chorus)
Record Label Hater Lyrics performed by Paris are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that Record Label Hater Lyrics performed by Paris is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD