Whoa whoa whoa People gonna say what they say But we don’t care about that anyway Haters gonna hate Don’t you ever change Only thing that matters That you need to know You’ll only find it in your heart and soul We don’t care what they say

Smashin' up, them 'Raris dash out (cash out) 'Member all them nights we used to trap out? Broccoli and collard greens (collard greens) Passin' all them haters, cash out (cash out) Let's party like the '70s Blowin' on hella tree It don't matter to me,

Man today's a good day Hey, ay-ye-ay-ye-ay 'Cause I'm rich, rich, rich, rich Walking down the street and I just copped a big booty bitch And these diamonds on my wrist, wrist, wrist, wrist, wrist 'Cause I'm rich Today I don't have any haters 'Cause I

Like a war child I'm like, I'm like Whoa, whoa (I'm like) whoa, whoa (I'm like) I'm like, I'm like, I'm like I like to get my fuckin' fade on I'm feeling sexy, I'm like (Ooh) Them haters tryin' to get their hate on (Fuckin' war child)

I was made for this shit, rookie of the year I wouldn’t show up for the freshman list Your swag expired, you ain’t fresh like this Shit on all my haters, I’ma make them pissed Trade my Honda to a Bentley Now these fuckboys wanna end me Ammunition, I got

This song is for you, this song is for you I ain't singing to you... I ain't singing to you To all the lovers in the place... lovers in the place To all the haters in the place... haters in the place (You know it, you know it) (you know it, you know it)

I choose death before dishonor I'd rather die than live down on my knees Bury me like a soldier, with my dignity! Bury me! (Bury me!) To the haters, the takers, the liars, all the vultures and the bottom feeding scum The FCC, the FBI and every tin god

Work so fucking much, my greatest fear is Imma die alone Every diamond in my chain, yeah, that's a milestone People calling me, asking me for money, man The only thing Imma give you motherfuckers is the dial tone On the down low, haters drown slow I been

I've been runnin' shit since I was the age of 12 Since a young nigga, been a hard-headed hot-head Duck feds, lay low, they do what I say so I've been gettin' money since I learned how to walk for real I see the haters throwin' shots, but they just

She got a rock I'm gettin' stoned Here's to happy ever after And here's to balls and chains And here's to all us haters Of old lovers new last names And here's to holdin' up And gettin' right where I belong Read it in the paper