[Chorus: DJ Paul]

This for all you, this for all you, this for all you

This for all you player haters who be talkin' that shit (Talkin' that shit)

This for all you, this for all you, this for all you

This for all you player haters who be talkin' that shit (Talkin' that shit)

[Verse 1: Lord Infamous]

Demonic mind, why must I love to take so many lives?

Why do I leave them suffering lying there to die?

Why do I send their mother pictures just to watch her cry?

Why does the Devil use me to commit these evil crimes?

Why must I inflict all these multiple stab wounds when grabbing the butcher knife?

Why come I must torture and paralyze victims

Before I'm truly satisfied?

I cannot stop tryin' to prove to myself

That I am a weaponry master

So I seem to keep stalking with silencers

Bodies are scattered all over the pasture

[Verse 2: Juicy J]

Playa hatin' fools, for you fools, I got them tools

Tools like the Glock 19, blastin' on the scene

Somethin' like a nightmare in your dreams

Mean with them guns, you can't run, leavin' bodies numb

H-to-the-K one I spray, Juicy J bar none

I'm always hearin' shit about my niggas in the Three 6 Mafia

Prophet Entertainment on the rise, bitch

You fools don't know when I roll up on ya, I will have to spray ya

This goes out to the mothafuckas who doubt, jealous player haters

[Chorus: DJ Paul]

This for all you, this for all you, this for all you

This for all you player haters who be talkin' that shit (Talkin' that shit)

This for all you, this for all you, this for all you

I hold your head down and I buck you like a convict, bitch (Talkin' that shit)

This for all you, this for all you, this for all you

This for all you player haters who be talkin' that shit (Talkin' that shit)

This for all you, this for all you, this for all you

This for all you player-

I hold your head down and I buck you like a convict, bitch (Talkin' that shit)

[Verse 3: Gangsta Boo]

This goes out to all you suckas, player hatin' mothafuckas

Jealousy is in you bustas, ho, you know I'm really bumpin'

Triple Six is blastin' bitches, robbin' riches, that's the scoop

Playa hatin' mothafucka, hate the shit by Gangsta Boo

Nigga, just remember all the killas just ain't in yo' hood

Triple Six is all around yo' ass now, hoe, I wish you would

Test this fuckin' player, player haters better listen close

Now go run for help, my .32 will bring you to the floor (Floor)

[Verse 4: DJ Paul]

Steppin' up out the house, fresh black Jordans on my feet

I'm trippin' out off of some rumors, some bustas said I got killed last week

But the Devils don't die, just get high, fool you don't even not hear me though

And if it's true, then it's the resurrection of the Three 6 Mafia, h'izz'oe

Let me break it down 'fore the rumor starts, who forced those untrue lips to go 'round?

Plenty clowns, we gun down, Jakers live not in the M-Town, yeah

But there's some player hatin' goin' on, so I gotta, kinda like stay str'izz'ap

Another fresh paint job on the Chevy thang, Octavo's

.44 steel on my m'izz'at

[Chorus: DJ Paul]

This for all you, this for all you, this for all you

This for all you player haters who be talkin' that shit (Talkin' that shit)

This for all you, this for all you, this for all you

I hold your head down and I buck you like a convict, bitch (Talkin' that shit, talkin' that shit)

This for all you, this for all you, this for all you

This for all you player haters who be talkin' that shit

Talkin' that shi–, talkin' that shi–, talkin' that shi–