PURE HATE

I'ma kill a busta', motherfucker with a Glock

Have a fucking heart attack

I don't give a mother—

I'ma kill a busta', motherfucker with a Glock

Have a fucking heart—

Hurt— that's your—

Hurt— that's your—

Hurt—

That's your money, hurt, that's a damn shame

When I when walk up in this bitch, they be like: "Hello, Freddie, mane"

What you need? Do you want some uppers? Know you fuckin' love 'em

Want tequila? Do you fuckin' need it? C'mon, man, I'm breathin'

Nowadays I fill them up, with the cocaine I love

You see it now? A simple man, I don't want no fuckin' xans

Have you think I got the shit? Got the swaggin' herited

Got the dope up in my veins, maybe Freddie ain't the same

Standin' up I'm looking tall, standin' up I'm gonna fall

Standin' up upon my bread and now I'll never be like y'all

Ain't no peasant, bitch, be fucking with my money, laying down a little

Fuckin' with your honey, ain't it funny? Cut right up the middle

I can see right through, see ya' mind, you can't hide from what's inside

Murder loving piece of shit, see to break his back, bitch

Pure fuckin' hate, better wait, now you feel the pressure

Heart is speedin' up, gonna level with yo' gat

Pure fuckin' hate, pure fuckin' hate— hate

Pure fuckin' hate, pure fuckin' hate— hate— hate

Pure fuckin' hate, pure fuckin' hate— hate

Pure fuckin' hate, pure fuckin' hate, shit

Doomshop, motherfucker

Pure fuckin' hate, pure fuckin' hate— hate

Pure fuckin' hate, pure fuckin' hate— hate— hate

Pure fuckin' hate, pure fuckin' hate— hate

Pure fuckin' hate, pure fuckin' hate, shit

Doomshop, motherfucker