B.G. - Problems lyrics

Hook: I've got problems In my f**ing house b**h would you please Get the f** out [Verse 1] Trust these hoes, they all slick I found out, they ain't sh** Almost was played by my main b**h Over, she tried to pull 1 on quick I'm paperchasing, trying to get rich On a 68 tour with my clique She hit me while I'm on the floor and was like Ain't sh** bad cause moms finna unite I say bad, when its cool But now, check what this hoe do Slickly moving momma in my house Cause picture the whole wild she put out Now dat ain't even the half of it Wit moms come 2 neices, 2 nephews, 2 cousins Baby got comfortable in my sh** Showing off dust and trailings after they piss b**hes, wild kids, jumping and playing Break lamps, wasting food and leaving stains Mom laying in my lazy boy Kids jamming tapes in my VCR Flipping my TV like a light switch God can only stop me from k**ing this b**h I'm on the way back to my crib I pull up, "this can't be how I live" I jump out ready, to start f**ing I'm pissed off, mad and disgusted b**h tryna give me a excuse It ain't nothing you can say or do You ask the mind state, to do the bad You ain't said nothing bout cha whole fam Look at my sh**, it's f**ed up At least smell like a project cut You ain't had the decency to clean up You, ya ma, and children, can pack up Please hurry before I go raw And mess around in here and catch a charge You don showed me, you ain't sh** You showed me, a b**h gon be a b**h Look what you don caused in my house Before you get pissed (the whip) get out Hook: I've got problems In my f**ing house b**h would you please Get the f** out [Verse 2] Here's another f**ed up episode My cousin came to visit from Chicago I ain't saying since we was young bucks I turned thug, and he wannabe with the bustas So why he down visiting, he staying wit me I put him under surveilence longer than a week He don't put 100% in his hygenes He lied and stopped bout what he doing be in the streetz He eating, he sh**ting, he sleeping, all for free He ain't cleaning behind his self, he think it's the double tree I'm almost to the point to ask him what's happening? But I know, he get smart, I'ma slap him Now I gotta leave him by his self for the weekend I gotta fly to handle business in Cleaveland I jet and this n***a go through my phone numbers Call em', tell him I got him a surprise party, come over So happen that I'm finished a day early And decide to fly back home and check on this b**h I get down, f**ed up my sh** packed like a nightclub Sofa's ripped, tape is broke and it's full of weed smokers n***a got it coming, every tooth in his mouth I'ma knock-out, I can't believe what he did to my house