Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song It Ain't A Problem, artist - Rick Ross.
Date of issue: 31.12.2005
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
It Ain't A Problem |
It ain’t a problem 'til I say it is |
Handle my problem, that’s the way it is |
Always talkin like a bitch but that’s the way he is |
After the ride, nobody’ll know where he is — Triple C! |
When you serve a cat a couple of times |
Knowin he serve in a couple of towns |
Polaco, Pensacola, down to Duval |
It put you in the midn of a pimp like Too $hort |
Classy nigga walkin 'round with stacks |
But I’m gettin word that he talkin behind my back |
Now is the time to listen, you gotta pay attention |
He may pay a henchman, put him up on where you livin |
Tell him all your cars, makes and models |
Tell him how you on steaks and bottles |
Opium Sunday, Oxygen Tuesday |
How you go to the boxing gym tryin to lose weight |
He done told a nigga all your routes |
And now you got a lowlife tryin to figure you out |
Catch you in the driveway, trigger you out |
That’s what killers about, that’s what niggaz allow remember |
Nigga please! |
You ain’t a cap peeler |
Save that for your bathroom mirror |
No platoon dealer; |
you niggaz baboons |
Half gorilla, a camp of scrillers |
Triple C stamp the trillest |
I got B’s I’ma spend it, I don’t care what the bill is |
Them hoes stay at the billets |
And when they ask what year I tell 'em two thousand two million |
A rider without a motor, you got it right I’m a solider |
Long as it’s loaded I’ma tote it |
I told ya — flow so cold, below frozen |
like ice water over the Pro Tools |
But that’s old news, update the topic |
What makes the prophet cut cake in projects |
I’ma show him how cupcake his squad is |
Duct tape embalmers for makin them comments |
Nigga I’m fresh out |
Beef it really ain’t a problem, one call, half of your boys X’d out |
Jail ain’t rehabilitate shit! |
Killers and dealers all I affiliate with |
Retaliate and I squeeze mags, you hit you went stiff |
and we ain’t playin freeze tag, you better dip |
Chop soundin like a speed bag, that’s it, set a date money I’m hungry |
So I’m robbin moms for that wake money |
It’s Torch, you get a bomb from me — you wan' play? |
I survived more athletes than Barry Bonds trainin |
Name 'em — ain’t a problem 'til I say it is |
Miss a payment I’ll be waitin there, takin all your favorite shit |
Earrings, rings, watches, bracelets |
Chains and the flat screen, shawty that 'llac mean |
Meanin it’s comin too, nigga what you wanna do? |
I send G to kill you, lay your daddy down in front of you nigga |
Y’all niggaz know who this is |
Nigga this is the homey nigga |
Y’all niggaz don’t want no problems nigga |
Y’all niggaz see us in the club |
Y’all be havin y’all gorillas nigga |
But y’all niggaz already know nigga |
Triple C’s nigga, and we out |