Lyrics Problems - Rapper Big Pooh

Problems

Yeeeeah.
hah, hi haters
Guess what, I’m baaaaaack!
I know you niggas missed me man
I know you missed me, you know how I know?
Cause my name stay in your fucking mouth
Yo, listen up, uh
Muh’fucker think quick, I don’t do much but talk shit
Swallow spit, that’s my life
I can hear the people now screaming «Damn, he trife»
Five years since the +The Listening+ and I can’t change?
Guess what, priorities rearrange
Got fam looking at me like «Damn, you strange»
After all this time I couldn’t stay the same
Had to get a new picture, I just kept the frame
In a whole new zone, so when you hear me speak
It’s a whole new tone, yes I am prone
To tell wannabe rap niggas go home
Who pop a lot of shit till they standing alone
Look, I stand tall whether wrong or right
Don’t do petty shit, keep it out my sight
For the right cause homie, yes we do fight
If you seeing all of us then it’s not your night, right?
+ (Rapper Big Pooh)
I hear 'em talking like «You got a prob»
(You better know I’m always on my job, now everybody like.)
«We don’t really want no problems B»
«Have our name in the obituary column sheets»
(Ay, I heard 'em say «You a bastard case»)
They better chill 'fore I blast the place, now errbody like.
«We don’t really want no problems B»
«Have our name in the obituary column sheets»
My last name Murder, it ain’t Bradley, it ain’t Parker
I ain’t got no brothers, fuck +Danny+, I don’t wear no +Glovers+
Bold with it like the Catholic who be cussing in church
My bitch stay hot, chinky eyed, dutch in her purse
Fucking with me, believe you’ll be stuck in a hearse
The doctor couldn’t save your life cause I was fucking his nurse
In love with the dirt cause clean just really ain’t my style
A bastard cause I told your moms you really ain’t my child
Bitch I pulled out, like I did with the MAC millie
Fool with the tool, get abused when I act silly
That’ll really make the whole situation jacked up
Jo' be the period when pussies wanna act tough
Bleed you, whole plate of hollow points to feed you
Dolo for the dance cause your partners chose to leave you
How a felon walk around with guns, ain’t that illegal?
Mind your business fuck boy, I’ll see you when I seek you
+ (Rapper Big Pooh)
(Ay, I heard 'em say «You a bastard case»)
They better chill 'fore I blast the place, now errbody like.
«We don’t really want no problems B»
«Have our name in the obituary column sheets»
I hear 'em talking like «You got a prob»
(You better know I’m always on my job, now everybody like.)
«We don’t really want no problems B»
«Have our name in the obituary column sheets»
Yeah, you don’t really want no problem with the team man
H.O.J.
Hall of Justus, we ride heavy, uh
Illmind on production of course nigga