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    Luniz / Lyrics

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    "Issues" Lyrics

    Luniz feat. Devin The Dude

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    Duration:00:04:57
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    Lyrics

    I think it was Friday night, I met her at the club
    Apple Martini-ed up, smokin bud with my thugs
    Then yo yo, there she was, très bon booty ( *French* )
    Like Beyoncé no fiancé, let's keep in touch
    I wanted to beat it up, cause she was a superbad
    I mean with all that ass, same night hit it that fast
    We at her mega pad, still diggin like a sav'
    We poppin x tabs, the head was extra lav'
    But this her baby dad and he don't live with her
    And at his grandma's pad they left the kids with her
    So that explains the pictures I see of this nigga
    She says she's low on scrilla, she wanted gifts for her
    So she can get her nails done and get her weave fixed
    And I can't stand no nappy hair bitch
    And so I break off bread, nothin but pocket change
    She blew my socks again and then I hopped in the Range
    And then she kept on askin for bread, like everyday
    "My children need some aspirine, I got some bills to day"
    Now what am I to say, cause Yuk, he love the kids
    Puffy sell millions, but Yuk, he love the kids
    So I broke off bread, I did it for the kids
    Never trust a bitch, never think Yuk a trick
    I got the slut dismissed, she got the dismissal
    I ain't fuckin with you, bitch, you got too many issues

    You got too many issues
    Here, let me get you some tissue
    No, I don't mean to diss you
    But you want me to give you some money, quit actin funny
    Baby girl

    Time after time, rhyme after rhyme
    I look around, some hoe after mine
    But I'm just steady on the low, steady 'bout my flow
    Why try to keep a hoe steady when they be steady wantin mo'?
    I don't want no hoe all on my back, all up in my sack
    Before I burn one, at every corner that I turn on
    Hoe, get a life ? boppin' all night like you a nigga
    Need to be at home with yo damn children
    Like that shit was cool, well ain't shit cool
    About your children missin school
    Because you done cut a fool at the club last night
    And you ain't ? six
    Ran into a couple of ballers cappin like you broke them tricks
    But them tricks make cheese, they pop bottles for fun
    And you'll fuck one just to say you fucked one
    How dumb can one get, didn't even break bread to get with you
    And walkin round like you the fuckin shit, bitch, you got too many issues

    You got too many issues
    Here, let me get you some tissue
    No, I don't mean to diss you
    But you want me to give you some money, quit actin funny
    Baby girl

    Bitch, you get rotated through every crew like a tire from BF Goodridge
    Cause you 21 now, what, you actin like a good bitch?
    I'm tryin to get my nigga sucked cause he from outta town
    You just suck his dick while I weigh out the pounds and then you out
    What you mean you don't know, don't you need a little bread?
    You can feed a starvin child for just a little bit of head
    You suck a broke nigga dick but won't suck a rich nigga
    He a white boy, little man, limp dick nigga
    Three minutes and you gone, then I hit you at your home
    Give you a little for your pocket, now your weekend is on
    I don't understand, huh? Then why the fuck I'm talkin?
    Matter fact I'm wastin time, huh, bitch, get to walkin
    You try to help a rat bitch, she'll diss you on some wack shit
    You weigh 125, how you still lookin fat, bitch?
    Save them cheap ( ? ) yeah, I'm tryin to diss you
    You a broke-ass, think-you-bad bitch and you got too many issues

    You got too many issues
    Here, let me get you some tissue
    No, I don't mean to diss you
    But you want me to give you some money, quit actin funny
    Baby girl

    Nigga, fuck yo broke ass
    You ain't got no muthafuckin money anyway, nigga
    Don't come over here talkin about I got issues
    You got issues
    Nigga, you rollin on stop
    So don't even try to come over here
    Either you pay me or don't pay me no muthafuckin attention
    So ehm that's all this about over here
    When you look my way I already know you gots to pay
    All this issue shit, you can take that shit to the next bitch
    I ain't the one, nigga
    Please
    Please believe it
    Fuck that
    Pay me
    Yeah I got issues, so what?
    I'm tryin to get fly, youknowmsayin
    I'm tryin to go to the Century Club
    I need $100 on my hair
    I need uh 50 to go the nail shop
    I need 200 for that new Iceberg make-up
    So uh, what you workin with?
    Shit, I'm a real bitch
    Yeah
    And I need to get my car washed
    As a matter of fact, I'm tryin to roll yo shit
    Don't you got a Jag or somethin?
    Yeah, I'm tryin to roll yo shit, nigga
    On the real, me and all my muthafuckin homegirls
    We comin to the party...
    This song was submitted on September 12th, 2013 and last modified on November 23rd, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group.
    Written by Carl Allen Sturken, Evan A. Rogers.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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