Problems Lyrics by Chillinit
You speak in my name, but you hardly know me. I fly your girl out to Spain, with J’s in her suitcase and parcels loaded
I still got scars from homies, and we don’t want problems, baby. Send me a text with a heart emoji, look. I’m lost on a path that’s lonely, dark and lonely
Broken, I’m marching slowly, but if only you knew what it cost, bro. All of my wins took more than my loss, bro. Took me a chance, then I got me my bands
Then I ran up 25 grand on a Osco, wait. I don’t do half days or a day off. I’m a 36524
I ain’t gon’ stop till I make me a mil. And I ain’t gon’ chill till Chile gon’ see two more. That’s karma, I ain’t trying to mess with the devil
I’ve been a father, but bro, I gotta get up. There’s money in my mind, then I mix it with marijuana. The handbag rider, zips in the ganja
Plugs on the charger, drugs in the lager. The girls on their knees, the curve got the grease. So I studied that shit, then I scored me the master
Nah, the bro got bands like Andre. I pulled 3,000, your girl outcast. Get up, smoke on a mountain, I’m money that rasta
No sports fan, but it’s under my armor. So tell them what’s good, bro. I counted up the figures, $100 a minute
I get it in double digits, I’m up on your television. I listen to Biggie Speeding, he told me just cause the limit. So I got that, I made the crowd go wild
Done a thousand miles on the road like I’m doing up white chicks. Made a million on stage cause the prize fit. 28 shows, we played to that white bitch
Yeah, I moved me a gram like I toured the France. When I broke pedal bars like a cyclist. I broke from the east, gonna blow like Isis
Am I a ghost? I’ma cause you a crisis. I got bands on my last month’s tape. Now I need more for my next week’s song
Girl got home from my studio session. I still gon’ fuck with my tech fleece on. Ride like a Harley, vroom
Thank God, babe, that my bed frame’s strong. Then got a phone call up from my bro. When he got charged up for a 10G bond
I don’t want my bro in chains. I don’t want my bro in pain. I don’t want bros no cash
If he’s got no cash, then I’m sure that my bro gets paid. I don’t want bros getting smoked in the day. You’re loathe with some song that I wrote on a page
Look what I made. I don’t want bros in their grave. I just want smoke in the J-Wave
Vroom, vroom. Can’t rev me up, I’m a Tesla. Works when I’m bowed flat out like a stretcher
Yeah, I still got maids to the brickies. And maids to the chippies. The chip in a brick investor
Move with the balls in a yester. And I don’t want to crack under pressure. Don’t speak on my name, don’t speak on my… You don’t know what it cost, bro
All of my wins took more than my loss, bro. Took me a chance, then got me my bands. And I chased up 25 grand and my odds fell
I done do half days of a day off. I’m a three, six, five, two, four. I ain’t gon’ stop till I make me a mil