Paper Route

Hatin’ on a nigga
You da real definition
Why you- why you
Why you- why you
Why you hatin’ on me, hatin on me
Hate

Why you hatin’ on me real thing not a phony
Real thing not a phony
Hatin’ on me, hatin’ on me
Why you hatin’ on me
Cause the ladies view me want me
That’s the only warnin’
She gone see me in the mornin’
Took a picture of her moanin’
Hate the game don’t hate the player
More concerned with how they pay you
Zeroes and some commas get ya cake up
Busy hatin’ you ain’t tame us, wait
Busy hatin’ you should wake up
Hatin’ on me, hatin’ on meeehh!
Jealous, jealous
You can’t tame us, how’d you even manage
Hit the beat and prolly maim it
Diction good like its Cambridge
New Edition yeah I slang it
Yea I do the things you wanna do
I do it for no reason, wait
Got the things you wanna have
You ain’t never have the cash
I was busy gettin’ money
Yeah I took the path
Road to riches now I have
People hatin’ on
I see hatin’ homie

Lance Markeith:
I see you hatin’ on me
You the real definition
Got it high definition
HD - High class, 4-4
Bend it over ya’ll niggas gettin’ fucked up
I’m the real definition
I’m the realest, I’m the illest
Motherfucker fuck ya feelings
I’m deal with I’mma kill with it
And I’mma still hit it huh
I’m just the nigga who had it off off in his plans
Had it off off in his hands
Had it off off in em lands
Them foreign of lands that you can expand
What the fuck you tell Lance
When I made it off millions
And I ain’t even expand on how I even made it
How I even told em that I hate it
I hate it, I hate it, yeah
How the fuck I’m slavin’ how the fuck I made it yeah
A star, but nigga in a servant placement
I’m really the illest
I’m really in my feelings
I’m really tryna deal with the fact that I be tipdrillin’ everyday
But my mind on another plan I can’t expand it
I can’t explain it I’m on, I’m on
And nigga wanna talk but fuck every single song
That you make if you ain’t really wanna be on
And really wanna be honest
And really wanna be on this shit, yeah
Cause we’ll go beyond this shit
And drop that
And go off of that and off on that
Offer up a million would you even wanna talk on that

GrimLock:
Man fuck that shit Imma bring the trap back
You ain’t see a nigga I got the strap back
All black, strap attached, TAG
TB nigga, I got the black hat
Ridin’ round in ya city nigga
I got the sack nigga
Come buy nigga
If you got the powder don’t buy nigga
I’on trust niggas, I got the Ryan nigga
You’on even know a nigga
Hatin’ on a kid
We can ride with the trigger
You ain’t with the kid
I’mma ride with the whipper
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Hangin with the swivel
When ya dip dip
Flippin’ with ya kid
You ain’t even know da boy
Ridin’ with the pig
You ain’t even know he got cannon with the blick
Real, at my momma
Tryna get to move a ounce
You ain't even pay to pout
Had to hide it in the couch
Tryna get it off the counter
Smokin’ red like Atlanta
You ain't even know
She flushed it like it ain't a powder
(I got the meds, I got the heads, nigga riding for the bread)