VERSE 1
I’m sick of hip-hop.
Sick of media and that noise.
Girls loving the bad boys.
And, those supermarket tabloids.
Sick of seeing Kim Kar-
Dashian’s ass in it.
lusting and grabbing at nothing but plastic.
The sex ain’t even passionate.
Pop culture has bred a
Generation now anonymous.
Whip and chains across the
Crooked plains of our consciousness.
And, everybody…
They buy into the hype machine
It’s worst though… Now my dreams
Are seeming more like commercials…
Of lives I’ve never wanted,
Jewels all on my body,
Yet you get rich enough, and
Niggas think you’re illuminati.
Now the radio plays generic
Non-rapping, Stepin-Fechit
Clipping hedges in front of your
Mansion, house niggas!
(whatever)

Chorus:
I wanna drop some knowledge for later,
But when a nigga tries, they turn me down with the fader
And, even if I could, then I might a “hater”…
They call me a “hater”.
I guess I’m a hater.

VERSE 2
I’m sick of rappers…
Sick of pretentious back packers,
And dumbasses spittting
Crap over some wackness… bastards
Sick of culture critics
With their heads up their own asses.
Sick of hipster rhetoric,
Sick of hip hop heretics.
Sick of rappers bragging
As if any of that matters,
Yet they scream for help when
They find themselves choking on their swagger.
This rap nation swallows vomit
To avoid starvation. (word)
…These MC’s don’t even
have a dedication
to actually writing rhymes (damn)
They’re false idols & gods
In the eyes of dumb niggas who
Just smile & nod over wackiness
‘til the days that their platinum plaque
symbolizes how they went from
rags to slightly better rags
(congratulations, nigga)

Chorus

VERSE 3
Ever hear the expression
“My haters made me famous”?
My disliking stupid garbage
is what made me nameless.
Should I be ashamed for having
An opinion…
And a mouth to speak them outwardly
To anyone who’ll listen? (not at all)
Anytime you hear my voice booming
Through the monotony,
That’s me poking holes through
Hip-hop’s hypocrisy.
If I speak, I’m a douche.
If I’m silent, I’m a coward.
This fodder… makes me think
“Why should a nigga bother”?
(Let ‘em know) For real…
If it rain’s, it will pour…
Umbrellas are optional
Along with truth in culture wars.
An opinion throws a wrench
In the gears of this genocide
Of free thought…
Which can only be bought.
I guess I am a hater. (hater)
A nigga over-critical…
Spiteful & pitiful.
Internally livid.
Maybe this hate for everything
Is becoming clearer…
Cuz I’m screaming all these things
While staring at a mirror.
Hater.