Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Problems, artist - Hustle Gang. Date of issue: 15.07.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
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 |