Stop Hatin’ (skit)

Lyrics

[Skit] Yo, you know I just seen that new Eve video, that thing on fire Who? Eve, Bombshell (Eve?) Yeah, queen of Philadelphia Yeah, right Aw, come on now, I know you ain't hatin' on that young lady Oh, no, I ain't hatin', I mean, she's alright, but she ain't like that She more than alright, she just, she just got the Grammy Talkin' 'bout she ain't alright, she just got a Grammy I think that was all luck Aw, it's no luck about it, it's, aw, aw, luck (Yeah), it fucks me up She had four million records, got all this shit poppin', movies and all that shit and you from Philly standin' here talkin' 'bout it's luck It's luck, it's luck, that's all it is (That's crazy, that's crazy) I don't know who you feelin' then right now, but that's some crazy shit I mean, she ain't the best female artist, yah mean? (She hold it down) All my niggas and all the chicks I know back home say she the shit, and all of 'em cop her shit, I don't know what you talkin' 'bout Do they ever see her? Do she come to the hood? I don't ever see her downtown, down South Street, none of that 'Cause she be busy, she got her shit poppin', you don't ever see her on South Street? (Come on now) She forever at Ishkabibble's and (Come on with that busy shit) It take three months and shit like that to make movies, and three months to do albums, three months to tour That's nine months outta the year, stop hatin' (I ain't hatin') You all up here on this motherfucking' corner with these motherfuckin' (I mean, who she wanna be? Who she wanna be?) Baggy tights on, and your teeth all motherfuckin' yellow, sippin' on a warm Sprite talkin' shit about her She Cristal and caviar, what the fuck is you talkin' 'bout? You better stop with your three motherfuckin' extensions and four tracks Hold up, hold up Hold up what? What the fuck? You don't know what— I know you ain't just come at me like that Yeah, 'cause you comin' at her like that (I'm from the fuckin' hood) I know you from the— ah, ain't this a motherfucker (You fuckin' nappy head, smokin' cigarettes, buyin' loosies from the Chinese store) You broke-ass bitch Your fuckin' linked-ass Timbs, come on now (Aw, go ahead with your fuckin'—) I'm fuckin' hood, Eve don't even know you, nigga Yeah, I know you hood, you rusty-nipple-ring-havin'-ass motherfucker (Fuck you) Your rusty-ass nipple ring and your dirty navel ring, fuck is you talkin' 'bout?