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    "Problems" Lyrics


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    I've got problems
    In my fucking house
    Bitch, would you please
    Get the fuck out?

    Trust these hoes, they all slick, I found out, they ain't shit
    Almost was played by my main bitch over, she tried to pull 1 on quick
    I'm paper chasing, 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 shit 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 nieces, 2 nephews, 2 cousins
    Baby got comfortable in my shit
    Showing off dust and trailings after they piss
    Bitches, 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 killing this bitch
    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 fucking I'm pissed off, mad and disgusted
    Bitch 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 shit, it's fucked 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 shit
    You showed me, a bitch gon be a bitch
    Look what you don caused in my house
    Before you get pissed get out
    (The whip)

    I've got problems
    In my fucking house
    Bitch would you please
    Get the fuck out

    Here's another fucked 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 surveillance longer than a week
    He don't put 100% in his hygienes
    He lied and stopped bout what he doing be in the streetz

    He eating, he shitting, 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
    Whats 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 Cleavland
    I jet and this nigga 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 bitch
    I get down, fucked up my shit packed like a nightclub
    Sofa's ripped, tape is broke and it's full of weed smokers
    Nigga got it coming, every tooth in his mouth
    I'ma knock out, I can't believe what he did to my house

    I've got problems
    In my fucking house
    Bitch would you please
    Get the fuck out
    This song was submitted on March 11th, 2011 and last modified on October 18th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Ultra Tunes, Universal Music Publishing Group.
    Written by Kyle Myricks, Rashad Thomas, Mario Pizzini, Brandon Hodgers, Author Unknown Composer.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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