Lyrics Problems - Hustle Gang, T.I., B.o.B

Problems

Fuck y’all nigga want with a nigga like me man
Eat you nigga for dinner
I’m a winner partner
Don’t get it fucked up
Don’t get it fucked up
You know you don’t want these problems
Nigga, you know you don’t want these problems
Nigga, don’t get it fucked up
Don’t get it fucked up
You know you don’t want these problems
Nigga, you know you don’t want these problems
I got a snub nose, for you fuck hoes
Steady talkin tough I bet you ain’t gon' buck though
I’m a gangsta bitch, we aimin' like you ain’t tonight
I ain’t ridin' with that fire, shawty, sure, you’re right
Pow!
Me slip, like how?
On the low between us, I’m strapped right now
Yea, fed case, ain’t nothing to me
I’m a head K, know that when you run into me
Get money, every G you make it like 100 to me
Im Fred Sandford to these niggas, they big dummies to me
Okay?
Now get some paper if you wanna play
Have yo head in my hallway for 100K
Either know it or you don’t nigga, this ain’t what you want
Keep on playin' with me hatin' and you ain’t gon' make it home
Either know it or you don’t nigga, this ain’t what you want
Think cause I went to prison I won’t put that pistol to yo dome?
It’s funny how niggas get hype when they get on stage with a mic
You know I see em bitin' the style cool, they still can’t deliver it right
I’ve been killin' this shit for so long, I don’t remember the hype
What’s that like?
They ain’t really bout that life, they ain’t really bout that
life
No lie on this mic, chillin' with habitual whores
Hit 'er with the hammer like Thor
This ain’t no boy, this a G4 ho, act like you been here before
Open up the suicide doors, like a Joe cut the window at the 25th floor
Ready for war, I came out the womb with a sword, cut my umbilical chord
See I’m headin' where you ain’t never been
We are not the same and that’s evident
I make flexin' just look so effortless
Get that celery til I’m hella bit
See these hoes, these hoes ain’t celibate
And they ain’t hesitant, not at all
For a nigga with a proper draw, she give me that box like a post office dropped
it off
Yeah no Tip, I got these hoes
Live it way, got a sake pose
Covered it like wear ladies flows
Nigga you a bitch, where yo lady clothes?
Put em all now, real nigga act
Better put it now
You better go for the Oscars
'Cuz impostors will get whack niggas that’s mobsters
That ain’t playing that
Niggas wanna sleep, I lay em down
Shine it, you see the way around, no recess in this circle
We don’t play around
With my zig-zags I J down this motherfucker real quick
'Cuz life be her bitch
Will I’m gon' serve hers big dick
Boy this Compton, Diamond lane
Me and y’all, it’s bout the same
Same nigga without the game
Keep shit, it ain’t potty trained
Big bucks like a Shawty bang, bad boy with that naughty chain
Big stripes like referees but home boy this is not a game
So break bread with the real bruh
Make sure you live life 'till it kill ya
Drop another molly in my tequila
'Til my life and my dreams look familiar
Off the drama and I’m back nigga
Still a king and that’s a fact nigga
Fuck talkin, I’m that nigga
That’s one deep, no pact nigga
Bad boy, no act nigga
No internet, but I’m at niggas
New McLaren, all black nigga
That’s front and Center like Shaq nigga
In the game but don’t play round
Try this shit with me — you get layed down
I stick and move, I don’t stay round
Make the hardest nigga turn greyhound
I don’t talk the talk, I just run shit
How you think you’re me but ain’t the shit
Could go bananas on some shit
I keep a team on that dumb shit
I keep a strap that just might clap
Money low and I might trap
Yea I’m on it, fuck my opponent
He run up on me, I might snap
Got me feelin' like fuck em
I’m face to face, I don’t duck em
My heat in hand, I don’t tuck em
I don’t body bag em, I stuff em
With hot shit, hot shit
Yea I’m talkin bout hot shit
With drinkin' letters I ride shit
'Till showin' 'bove but you not shit
I go for real, just ask T.I.P
I green light my get trip
Six niggas hoppin' out one whip
Go there re-constructin your whole whip
I’m a down shore baller, ATL stunner
Bitch leave me I’mma take everything from 'er
Please try a nigga where I’m from with that drama
So we can fire pistols at yo goddamn mama
Let me find out, you layin' on me for riches
Cut his head off, leave his forehead in the kitchen
Warming your eye balls on the stove, the other missin'
I think his head exploded, that nigga teethin' the dishes
Hey when you learned that as long I learned this shit in the trenches
I am at a nigga just like Twitter, follow my mentions
4−4 deuce cutless, deuce butnicks extensions
And you can hustle on main street, TKT gave you permission