[Verse 1: Problem]
Who that, talking 'bout, who that?
Run up on me, you'll get your a** beat blue black
Go on get nerve, I'm off the curb
Push mountains of herb, you n***as already heard
The bro Berg keep a pistol gripped pump on his lap at all times
Wherever, however, cause young n***as they trying
See 'em and be like “Huh, n***a, what?”
“Huh? Give a f** like what?”
Hell yeah, this the remix, these b**hes coming harder than cement
The kind that put the blow to they nose, no Kleenex
Shining like the sun, no Phoenix
Diamond Lane gang wear it big, no 3X free Miller
You g**ning foolie chucker
More n***as still good on the block, Timmy Duncan
Knocking n***as out they style like a f**ing 50 dumping
Labels can't advance me, that Cali n***a that got Diddy dancing
[Chorus: Problem]
Yeah I'm just doing my thang, fingers in the sky, banging my gang like
Uh, go on fall back, cause you don't want no problems like that
Cause we gonna be like huh, n***a what, huh, give a f**, n***a what
A n***a be like huh, n***a what, huh, give a f**, n***a what, a n***a be like
[Verse 2: Wiz Khalifa]
What's smacking 30, under 30, I'm a young rich black man
What's happening? No it ain't Taylor, less my hands is in
Grands I'mma spend, grams put them in, seen that Bombay, ran from the gin
Staying low key, still they know me, smoking OG, and I blow it by the O-Z
We faded ho please
I'm getting stupid high, me and P-R-O-B
My J's super old, Rick Owens, no sleeves
We at the after-party, you can bring you own weed
And we gon' take shots until someone has to drive us home
Come from a place where they do tote that chrome
Smile on they face, but ain't nothing a game
Stacking that paper, don't get in their way or Rat-tat-tat
[Chorus]
[Verse 3: Chris Brown]
Look, okay it's OHB so n***a, bag bag, I got an ounce of that bounce in a Glad bag
Molly f**ing up my liver, got a bad back and if you tryina f** with her, I'mma tax that
Ass all on the floor, I'm tryna pour it up b**h, lean on my dick so slow it up b**h
And the police tryna pull up on the scene, then they ask you what you seen? I ain't seen sh**
A hundred n***as right behind me that's the drum line, all you hear is ‘blat, blat', hit it one time
f** a punch line, n***a had bread since the lunch line, I can put them soldiers on the front line
Open season, just n***a give me the reason to bust, and just let it squeeze and my rope-a-dope is the meanest
I box you up in the freezer, comatose, paraplegic, I'm dodging the misdemeanours hoping I don't get subpoenas but I
[Chorus]
[Verse 4: Tyga]
Huh, banging out the truck, I'm T-Raww, b**h, goN' let a n***a f**
Huh, b**h you heard what I said, your b**h is a bird, but I don't give her bread
What? Problem pa** the weed, these n***as claim they balling then why they clothes free?
These motherf**ers cheap like a nose bleed seat, you ain't gotta go to Miami b**h to feel the heat (WOO!)
LA, burner to your belly, my n***as OGs, keep the burner in the telly
Getting head 'til it ache, that's a motherf**ing headache, do this sh** tonight, send it straight to felly felly
n***a why? I'm selling dreams, the money team, n***as spend crack but they ain't got no fiends
Got the juice and the cream, Wu-Tang, Raheim, I'm a motherf**ing, money machine n***a
[Chorus]
[Master P]
How ya do that there
[Verse 5: Master P]
Probably getting paper, but don't f** with you broke hoes, n***as, or you haters
Man D. Howard with the motherf**ing Lakers, I represent the street, No Limit is the label
Throw your hoods up, motherf**er where you from? We in this b**h deep and it can get dumb
n***as in the back motherf**er popping bottles, chasing bad b**hes and them n***as throwing dollars
Louis V down from my head to my toes, C-Murder in the pen, and that iron getting swole
Never gave a f** 'bout no n***as wanna hate, keep the chopper in the car, case a n***a wanna play
She showed me the titties, I call them b**hes Dhali, I know she a freak, cause she gone off molly
Pushing 160 when I'm riding in the ghost, you ain't from round here, n***a better walk slow, or get smoked