Haters - B.o.B

We got them going down for the count

Looking at the ground

That’s why we got haters, that’s why we got haters

Haters everywhere we go, haters everywhere we go

Haters everywhere we go, where we go

Haters going down for the count

Looking at the ground

I think you’re a hater, I think you’re a hater

Haters everywhere we go, haters everywhere we go

Haters everywhere we go, where we go

Haters going down for the count

Yes sir it’s the beast from Decatur

Can’t see enemies and the haters

Real sharp on my thing like a razor

Blade, come clean like a shape up

So guess I got a game of tape up

But everybody going to feel the need to say something

But can’t speak up whenever you face them

That’s what you call microphone gangsters

Yeah, I got them okie-doke, yeah I’m raw, you know my flow

Because folk be acting hard, like a Viagra overdose

Talking that noise on all them songs

A bunch of little boys but you all look grown

Those niggas there, and these niggas here

It really don’t matter because they all just clones

Go to school, read a book, be a lawyer

Hell yeah man I’m all for the cause

Ain’t trying to get involved with the law sir

But a nigga will get caught with the Mossberg

And that just ain’t a threat on the song

Don’t get it wrong because this track is my own

Because niggas that slip they don’t last long

Hey, what the lick read homie?

Me I’m doing what I always do

Grinding, if you wasn’t steady hating you’d be balling too

I know you seen us falling through

All the rich niggas is on my crew

Fuck it, they can’t touch us, if stuck up is what you call it cool

Oh!

You should of seen when I came down in that

Black on black, custom gator, haters face down on the mat

Splat!

Yeah I can make a green nigga mad

Quick, fast, flash like ten cash on his bitch ass

You can tell I’m a G by the walk and the stance

How I play the game make them talk in the stands

Watch how you talk when you talk to the man

If it ain’t about bread you can talk to the hand

I, I, show you how to get rich

You got a weak arm I’ll show you how to pitch

Made it so play I’ll show you how to hit

And tell the police I don’t know about shit

Aye guy, I’m fly, something like the air

Ain’t that something?

When it’s stunting man there’s nothing like air

Homie hold it right there, homeboy hold it down

Spent five at the mall and had the haters going down