Lyrics Problems - Jake Lambo, Joell Ortiz, Zuse

Problems

Don’t talk about it, be about it
Really though, don’t even be about it, we about it
Y’all don’t want that problem, nah
Trust me y’all don’t want that problem, nah
They don’t hear me though
In the booth see I be fooling, y’all just fooling around
I’m tutoring now, you clueless but I’m schooling you clowns
I’m cooling it now, don’t do it or them dudes getting wild
I told my mom look at her son like really you should be proud
I’m building a foundation and really my mind’s racing
A million times faster than average and I’m waiting
I feel as they all hating, I feel as they all waiting
Like look at this nigga Jake, wait this beyond greatness
Dope spitter, cold nigga, go figure, work until we all richer
I tried to show em, the bitches still ain’t get the picture
Now it’s time to give em the business, bitch it’s been official
And my niggas be sending missiles, gon be hard to miss you
Mama missing a seat, I don’t see any box of tissues
And any problem, we can solve em, y’all don’t want those issues
Still I kill em all, RIP to any opposition
Jake
cool though, got a couple bitches in the pool though
Just took a hit of Don Julio, nobody act a fool though
Cause man we got them things that’ll remove your
Soul from your body, put your spirit up on Pluto
But I’m chilling, just bought a billion
Main thing bout going panoramic on the panamera ceiling
Just toasted with my accountant but we spilling, no we didn’t
Just make a whole mother fucking nother million
Hood niggas living in the burbs but don’t get it confused I pull up in that
suburban
Roll that black window down and throw em all at your curb
Hit whoever had the nerve to pillow talk with a bird, bird
Hate on me but never ever plot to take from me
Faithfully, I’ll turn your neighborhood to a bakery
Forever Imma be able to walk these streets
Rich nigga, lil homie talk is cheap
Tell them free
AK come from Compton
Look pon a real real don don
Poy-poy-poy no drum drum
Kick him, like Clyde
, him a real bad man
Tax them like Uncle Sam-Sam
Leave them bloody like tampon
Catch a nigga on the wrong side
Bombs out, took him out, now he offline
Catch a nigga even when he on part time
That’s just how it goes when it’s war time
Murda, chalk line, hollow point shot
It a come out the carbine
Bullet, I kick him like movie, I star time
RIP to my dog
Gangster now