"Playa Hata" as written by Gerald Edward Levert, Bobby Caldwell, Alfonso Kettner, C. J. Anthony, Chuckii Booker, Shon L. Adams, Jerold D. Jr. Ellis, Garrick Husbands and Mark Ogleton....
Why you wanna playa hate on me??
Oh hoo hooooo baby
Oh yeah
Eh hey
Why you want to playa hate on me??

Nobody can help him
So welcome to the land of ski maskes
We blastes
To bust a couple of caps up in they weak asses
The dust that's bein kicked up
An Yuk is down to lick up
Do a stick up
At an Armor truck pick up
Then get tucked,
Up out the scenery,
Wit greenery,
Stopped up, watch up,
Sew the block up wit creamery,
The cream, I sling, got fiends on my team,
Like a fiend I dream, an hoes swing on my ding-a-ling,
Sumpthin tremendous,
They spend grip,
Endless trips to Macy's, they trade me,
So playa hataz hate me,
I keep the safety off my four-fifth,
Hold it in focus,
Fools didn't used to trip on my dick when I was the brokest,
But notice, I got a lil mail now,
'Cause everbody bump L-you-N-I-Z like hell now,
You juss a busta brown an blood you know,
Chris spreadin faulty rumors around the Town like Club New Vogue,
Really though.

Why you wanna playa hate on me??
Why you wanna playa hate on me??
(Why you playa hate??!!)
Why you wanna playa hate on me??
Why you wanna playa hate on me??

I gots to,
Keep my business to myself,
'Cause hataz talk mo than get shot to spread rumors when it's loaded,
Hatin' get yo grill exploded,
The first thing I heard,
I stole a credit card from Chris Webber,
I never knew that,
But's who's that, an next,
I heard them ridin' around smokin' crack in the back of my homies Lex,
It be them broke ass, no cash,
Bustaz tryin to quote that's why the Town got rid 'o $hort,
I think you busta browns need to wise up,
Before we ride up,
Sew up yo block, an sew them lies up,
Once don't trip,
Twice no grip,
Three timmesss, will get you bucked wit the nine,
I thought the hatin' would stop, but the rumors are passin' still,
Sounds like that busta that plugged mo holes than mass appeal,
You need to stop!!
Hatin' on,
The see-N-O-T-E, D-are-you, an the L-you-N-I-Z.

[Chorus: x4]

Break it down, oh yeah,
Fo the Luniz an, they homies.
I am here to let you know!!
Gotta think for you so leave the Luniz alone.

Let me tell yo ass a story, yes,
They juss be hatin' to the fullest but you can miss me wit that B.S. that
You stress,
When you test the young Hugh Heff,
The tech a spit up,
Chest get lit up,
Foo that's a rigg up,

Now I think the whole world knows me,
Not what they should know,
It's like rap an sellin' crack is all I'm good for,
Hangin' in the hood for so long,
I see why they talk,
Snitch a bustaz home.

(Can we talkkkk.... fo a minute??)

You're wrong I won't be offended,
I be there hand in hand wit the pencil,
Can it all be so simple,
Like Wu-Tang, spit true game, to get pootang,
From a nimfo.

Now I keep sayin,
Don't get mad 'cause you can't bump me,
But I'm still gonna spit it,
'Cause you still don't get it,
If it ain't noted, don't quote it,
Hataz when it comes to common sense you ain't showed it,
I don't understand!


Lyrics submitted by spliphstar

"Playa Hata" as written by Gerald Levert Eugene "chuckii" Booker

Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group, MISSING LINK MUSIC

Lyrics powered by LyricFind

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