Problem – Like Whaaat feat Bad Lucc Mp3, Problem – Like Whaaat feat Bad Lucc Mp3 İndir, Problem – Like Whaaat feat Bad Lucc Dinle, Problem – Like Whaaat feat Bad Lucc Şarkısı
[Verse 1: Problem] Who that talking ’bout “who that?” Run up on me? You get your ass beat blue-black (What) Go on, get nerve, I’m off the curb Push mountains of herb, you niggas already heard The bro Berg keep a pistol grip pump on his lap at all times (Times) Wherever, however, ’cause young niggas stay tryin’ (Ugh) See ’em and be like “Huh, nigga what?“ “Huh? Give a fuck, like whaaat?“ Blow my weed (Yeah), smash the gas (Gas), hop up in my lane Shit be looking way different through these thousand-dollar frames Mi—Mi—Millionaire mind, fuck the thousand-dollar brain Thousand-dollar lame, only get loud around his gang-ass nigga “Whaat, whaat”-ass nigga (Whaaat) Compton for real, you ain’t gotta ask, nigga (Nah) Floating through the city like I’m on a raft, nigga Mike Vick with the shit: I don’t need a pass, nigga Like, what that shit do?
[Chorus: Problem] Huh, yeah, I’m just doin’ my thing Fingers in the sky, bang—bang—banging my gang, like Ooh, go on, fall back ‘Cause you don’t want no problems like that ‘Cause we gon’ be like “Huh? Nigga what? Huh? Give a fuck, nigga, whaaat?” A nigga be like “Huh? Nigga, what? Huh? Give a fuck, nigga, whaaat?” A nigga be like
[Verse 2: Problem] Huh, your money funny, you a clown (Clown) Your bitch hit me up, then I’m prolly going down (Down) It depends on how much of that shit I just had Pill cool, but I prefer my MDMA by the bag (Whaaat) Heavy hitter right here, all you other niggas jabs Big talking ’bout beef ’til you serve they ass a slab (Ha) Do the math, hoes clash, ’cause I got them yelling “woo!” like Flair And when I’m done they always ask, “How you do dat there?” Hold up (Whaaat), word to Master P and Young Bleed (Bleed) I pull your bitch, she tryna kick it fast as Chun Li (Whaaat) ‘Cause I’m a pimp, see, word to Bun B, underground king No checker, shout out to the bitch pressing Get a weight lift, r—r—reppin’ Cal’ like Ripken I’m on fire right now, P burnin’, no syphilis (Whaaat) Strap it up (Up), you murder the pussy For real beef, you don’t talk, you just murder a pussy See me?
[Chorus: Problem] Yeah, I’m just doin’ my thang Fingers in the sky, bang—bang—banging my gang like Ooh, go on fall back ‘Cause you don’t want no problems like that ‘Cause we gon’ be like “Huh? Nigga, what? Huh? Give a fuck, nigga, whaaat?” A nigga be like, “Huh? Nigga, what? Huh? Give a fuck, nigga, whaaat?” A nigga be like
[Verse 3: Bad Lucc] Who that? I bet your lady knew that (Ugh) She say he got a ticket on the molly, mami, do that (Do that) Thugging with my round, Diamond Lane, I thought you knew that (Yeah) Pound half-Raider, hundred-six is where we grew that (Ha) See me on the ten with my squad, we so trill (Trill) Or uptown with them foolies, nigga, trapping by the mill I do it for my bros on the Locke, them hoes on stop I used to wear Pirellis back when Nelly was on top (Come on) Now it’s four-four-twos, my pack a bang, rewinding My bitch is red as a Honda throw back on them Yokohamas I be slammin’ the scraper, you touch the paper, it’s go (Go) Me, I just grind it for show, these hoes is thinking it’s snow (Go) I get it going, my nig’, I blow the horn and she ready Disrespectful? Nigga, please, I’m the one with the fetti (Fetti) I’m going out with a bang (Bang), it’s Lane on the chain (Chain) I just show up with diamonds, nigga, ’cause Lane is the gang, ha! (Diamond Lane)
