Alumni - Hate Lyrics

Shit, it ain't nothin' new
It's the A, yo, one, two
Better make us some room
Give us space to come through
'Cause we hate what you do
And your lame f*cking crew
And I will never quit
'Til you pricks hate my guts too
Honey, I'm home
The boys are like, here he goes again
I'm just letting steam off everything
I've been holding in
Yup, I'm going in
Give a f*ck who a song offends
Man, I don't get it
Why can't I seem to hold onto friends?
Guess I'm just too intense
A grumpy cunt, if nothing else
Yelling at Mikie and Kellyn
Telling 'em to go f*ck themselves
And hell, that's my own damn crew
But I'm just popping shit to them
Waiting to toe tag you
Whoops, I'm back at it
God damn it, I've f*cking had it
Too much wack shit
To even keep track of what I've been mad at
F*ck these Sac rappers
We've given these cats chances
Pick a bridge, any bridge
And hand me the damn matches
Chalk 'em out, get the yellow tape
They can even hella hate
I'm from Northern Cali
Our slang is how we all relate
Versatile verses, I get 'em twisted like cursive
You gon' need some churches and hearses
After the service
I paint pictures, but I'm off the wall
Put that shit together
Work ethic from the Alumni
Who does it better?
Read a book, I'm on a different page
Jumping on a different stage
Now I got a couple bucks
Look at how life changed
I'm in the pocket, only lyricists notice it
Maybe because we come from three day notices
I just spit retarded, while y'all dress disabled
I'll do you like a Dudley boy
Put your ass through a table
In reality, I'm living good
Even if I'm nameless
I could kick the dog shit out of someone like Sheamus
Bush
I'll smack your family tree
I'm just tryin'a rake in this money
And leave the leaves
If you know what I mean
Green
Look, I knows the truth
Your whole flow's a fluke
Your chain snatched, like an episode of Roots
You not getting paper
So what you lyin' for?
The only O's you served was in a tire store
The only time you grip nines
When you screamin' fore
You a bitch, bottom line
That's an underscore
I'm on my shit, Frank Gore when I run in hoes
I'm on fire
Y'all niggas better tuck and roll
Damn, am I swingin' on my own dick?
Damn right, I earned stripes just like Ole Miss
So listen up
What you spittin' ain't sick enough
You's a little kid, wet behind the ears
Sippy cups
But I'm dope
Might as well go and rock meth
Put it on that stove
In the kitchen like Top Chef
I'm wet, definition of that fly shit
Meaning that I switch gears
And I don't even drive stick
Wait, did you comprehend that?
My wardrobe gotta be at least ten stacks
Sneakerhead, been that
Clean cut, chin strap
Every kick, I break in
Like when Silva's shin snapped
I'm a legend, in fact
John Lennon of rap
Being broke ain't funny
No joke, Sinbad
Yeah, now that's a lot to deal with
But I know you get the picture
Like somebody filmed it
I'm about to kill it
'Cause y'all been hatin' us
But do like a library
Keep your mouth on hush
Motherf*cker