Hustle Gang - Problems lyrics

[Produced by: B.O.B.] [Intro] f** y'all n***a want with a n***a like me man Eat you n***a for dinner I'm a winner partner [Hook: Mac Boney] Don't get it f**ed up Don't get it f**ed up You know you don't want these problems n***a, you know you don't want these problems n***a, don't get it f**ed up Don't get it f**ed up You know you don't want these problems n***a, you know you don't want these problems [Verse 1: T.I.] I got a snub nose, for you f** hoes Steady talkin tough I bet you ain't gon' buck though I'm a gangsta b**h, 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 n***as, they big dummies to me Okay? Now get some paper if you wanna play Have yo head in my hallway for 100K [Bridge: T.I.] Either know it or you don't n***a, 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 n***a, this ain't what you want Think cause I went to prison I won't put that pistol to yo dome? [Hook:] [Verse 2: B.o.B.] It's funny how n***as 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 k**in' this sh** 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 who*es 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 back See these hoes, these hoes ain't celibate And they ain't hesitant, not at all For a n***a with a proper draw, she give me that box like a post office doctor though [Bridge: T.I.] [Hook:] [Verse 3: Problem] Yeah no Tip, I got these hoes Live it way, got a sake pose Covered it like wear ladies flows n***a you a b**h, where yo lady clothes? Put em all now, real n***a act Better put it now You better go for the Oscars 'Cuz impostors will get whack n***as that's mobsters That ain't playing that n***as 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 motherf**er real quick 'Cuz life be her b**h Will I'm gon' serve hers big dick Boy this Compton, Diamond lane Me and y'all, it's bout the same Same n***a without the game Keep sh**, 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 k** ya Drop another molly in my tequila 'Til my life and my dreams look familiar [Hook:] [Verse 4: Trae Tha Truth] Off the drama and I'm back n***a Still a king and that's a fact n***a f** talkin, I'm that n***a That's one deep, no pact n***a Bad boy, no act n***a No internet, but I'm at n***as New McLaren, all black n***a That's front and Center like Shaq n***a In the game but don't play round Try this sh** with me – you get layed down I stick and move, I don't stay round Make the hardest n***a turn greyhound I don't talk the talk, I just run sh** How you think you're me but ain't the sh** Could go bananas on some sh** I keep a team on that dumb sh** I keep a strap that just might clap Money low and I might trap Yea I'm on it, f** my opponent He run up on me, I might snap Got me feelin' like f** 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 sh**, hot sh** Yea I'm talkin bout hot sh** With drinkin' letters I ride sh** 'Till showin' 'bove but you not sh** I go for real, just ask T.I.P I green light my get trip Six n***as hoppin' out one whip Go there re-constructin your whole whip [Hook:] [Verse 5: Young Dro] I'm a down shore baller, ATL stunner b**h leave me I'mma take everything from 'er Please try a n***a 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 n***a teethin' the dishes Hey when you learned that as long I learned this sh** in the trenches I am at a n***a just like Twitter, follow my mentions 4-4 deuce cutless, deuce butnicks extensions And you can hustle on main street, TKT gave you permission [Bridge:] [Hook:]