Lyrics OMB Peezy – Whole Lotta Haters

Ay, gotta whole lotta haters
Fuck that, this a whole lotta paper
Got a youngin in the bay, gotta keep four scraper
My whole team eating, lotta money on the table

Heard a lil nigga talkin’ to the feds, he gon’ need every doctor in the city
Seen my young nigga bust a nigga brain
While I’m at wape sippin’ up some Henny
Bitch, I was broke, going thru some thangs
Locked up in them chains, nobody did send me
A pin, a nigga got a lil fame, they screaming my name
And askin’ to take pictures with me
My momma keep askin’ what I’m getting into
Almost got caught with a pistol at school
Riding with something that’s bigger than you
You ain’t listening to me, what you listening to
Every night, I gotta pray that I make it
They pray that I don’t why the fuck they won’t take me
Whenever I go, you will never replace me
Put holes in a fuck nigga, mad like Jason

Ay, gotta whole lotta haters
Fuck that, this a whole lotta paper
Got a youngin in the bay, gotta keep four scraper
My whole team eating, lotta money on the table
My cuz in the pen, got whole lotta razors
Bring ’em to my house this a whole lotta acres
Everybody chase the bitch, I’m unable (yeah)
Ain’t about to chase a bitch, but I’m tired
Bitch think I’m coming home, but I’m out
Said I need to drink alone, but I’m not
Let a nigga try me, he gon’ die
Let a nigga try me, then it’s a headshot
I got a red Glock, call it fire
Lil bitch head proper, she a bedrocker
And the head doctor ain’t gon’ lie

Bitch I got a red Glock, believe in headshots
You wanna take me, then you can try
I put your big homie in a headlock
Just a young nigga, but he know what I’m ’bout
I got a lotta haters and a lotta papers
And them crackers, they want me to fry
But you know my lawyer tank, her name Claire White
She a real beast, I ain’t gon’ lie
Ay, if you see what I seen, you would cry
All this shit I’ve seen got me feeling old
No matter what, you ain’t takin’ my life
You ain’t taking my soul
Ay, I gotta stay with a pole, yeah
Missing my dawg, and I mean that I miss him
I’m praying that they let my dawg out the system
Ain’t trippin’ that I gotta whole lotta haters
Fuck it, I got a whole lotta pistols, ay

Ay, gotta whole lotta haters
Fuck that, this a whole lotta paper
Got a youngin in the bay, gotta keep four scraper
My whole team eating, lotta money on the table
My cuz in the pen, got whole lotta razors
Bring ’em to my house this a whole lotta acres
Everybody chase the bitch, I’m unable (yeah)
Ain’t about to chase a bitch, but I’m tired
Bitch think I’m coming home, but I’m out
Said I need to drink alone, but I’m not
Let a nigga try me, he gon’ die
Let a nigga try me, then it’s a headshot
I got a red Glock, call it fire
Lil bitch head proper, she a bedrocker
And the head doctor ain’t gon’ lie