| I’m not ya one hit wonder
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| And when you see me on the streets in a black jeep
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| Know I got the heat up under
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| Not up under the seat, up under my cheek
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| Like so close to me that when I move it squeaks
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| I ain’t no big buff dude I’m a rap singer
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| I exercise one muscle that’s my strap finger
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| And I can’t call it how I see it no more
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| Cause these niggas’ll take ya words back and twist em' like a pretzel
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| And these bitches be the same too
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| Comin' with that sob story crocodile tears trying to game you
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| And that’s exactly what the game do
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| And if you ever get caught dirty with a nigga she gon' blame you
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| So what in the hell you want to floss her for?
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| It’s supposed to be bout' what a baller nigga cost that ho (yeah)
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| You givin' a game of black eye in ya S-5
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| While you niggas kick back poppin' X you let that cuz' dry
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| And that bitch supposed to carry her own car note (c'mon, yep)
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| And don’t be going for that shit «I got a sore throat» (yeah)
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| Give that bitch a couple of Sucrets (mmm hmm)
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| Or give that that ho that application down on Vernon to that duplex (see ya)
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| (AMG)
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| When I bump on this trouble
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| Niggas gettin' big money on the double
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| Fast lane, champagne, rubber to burn
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| Gettin' rich bitch is the only concern
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| When I bump on this trouble
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| Niggas gettin' big money on the double
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| Fast lane, champagne, rubber to burn
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| Gettin' rich bitch is the only concern
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| The only concern
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| Bitch you get fucked, can’t suck
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| But you want a nigga with a million bucks
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| A 5-double-0 and a Rover truck
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| I bend 'em all over 'til I know they stuck
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| Want to tell your friends that you fucked with A
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| But how many dicks did ya suck today?
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| Do we play ball? |
| Do we move that weight?
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| All I got for a motherfuckin' ho is hate
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| Bitch want to get drunk and high
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| Point that booty on to the sky
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| Square ass bitch go bake a pie
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| Get a tattoo of a dick in ya eye
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| Want to be flied call Continental (bitch)
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| The Benz ain’t a rental
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| Sippin' on shit that ya can’t pronounce
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| Ho quit staring at my bank account
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| (AMG)
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| When I bump on this trouble
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| Niggas gettin' big money on the double
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| Fast lane, champagne, rubber to burn
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| Gettin' rich bitch is the only concern
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| I’m the bomb bitch, I’m seizing
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| P the reason you know
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| Cause pimpin’ll have you seeing me with a bad ass ho
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| Legendary my name
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| Secondary you came
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| And you won’t see me stop making hits 'till I walk with a cane
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| Still 5'11″, 6 feet with shoes
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| Compton, OG nigga givin' niggas the blues
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| Etched in stone, makin' yo bitch fetch the bone
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| I’m calling the cops punk motherfuckers catch the phone
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| The walkie talkie, the 2-way and all of the above
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| Nightstick up yo ass 'til we all see blood
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| Fuck ya, I’m a cop too (what?)
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| I’m a cop me a kilo of yay
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| And try to get it crackin' like it’s '82 (ahh yeah)
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| With Monte Carlos and European firms cop them El Co’s on that gold lace
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| Dippin' round the whole place (whole place)
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| Fuck a 6-pack nigga cop the whole case (whole case)
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| And when them marks come nigga crack they whole face
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| The way my Glock cock keep a niggas full
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| Got him spittin' like that pitcher from the KC Royals
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| Socked the P.D., haters R.I.P
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| Very sincerely yours
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| Quik nigga please
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| (AMG)
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| When I bump on this trouble
|
| Niggas gettin' big money on the double
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| Fast lane, champagne, rubber to burn
|
| Gettin' rich bitch is the only concern
|
| When I bump on this trouble
|
| Niggas gettin' big money on the double
|
| Fast lane, champagne, rubber to burn
|
| Gettin' rich bitch is the only concern
|
| The only concern
|
| When I bump on this trouble
|
| Niggas gettin' big money on the double
|
| Fast lane, champagne, rubber to burn
|
| Gettin' rich bitch is the only concern
|
| Ahh! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Trouble , by - DJ Quik. Song from the album Greatest Hits: Live At The House Of Blues, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп