Hater Players
[Talib Kweli]


Every day somebody ask me where all the real MC's is at?

They underground

There's mad talented cats underground with that raw shit

Yaknowwhat'msayin? Bringin them raw skills

YaknowwhatI'm sayin?

Really, to me..

It's a Small Wonder, like Vicki, why I'm picky

These niggas suck like hickies

and still get the shit they slip in like Mickies

I'm sick of the hater-players, bring on the regulators

With the flavors like a farm team fucking with the majors

Like a river how I run through it, I do it so cold

Freezin up your bodily fluids, your style is old

You runnin your mouth, but don't really know what you be talkin about

You should retire, get that complimentary watch, be out!

Yo, with the quickness, so swift you miss this lyrical fitness

Now get this, these emcees wanna test me like litmus, bear witness

I'm like shot clocks, interstate cops, and blood clots

My point is, your flow can stop!

By all means, you need more practice, take that ass home

Everybody lookin at you, fish tank syndrome

In full effect, I stay catchin lyrical rep

And keep it blacker than the back of your neck

What you expect, that shit's hollerin

Cause we developin the followin

Gettin played like stone love tapes and dollar vans

Order reverse your universe so your demise is first

Before your rise it gets worse

You need a night nurse like Gregory

Beggin me - stop it hurts! - is what you say to me

Like that's supposed to mean somethin?

You the one I seen frontin in the club

Your act I don't buy it, I got the dub

Come on everybody, come on just show your love

Come on everybody, come on just show your love

Come on everybody, come on just show your love

Come on everybod