Problems

by Paul Wall

Paul Michael Slayton (born March 11, 1981), better known by his stage name Paul Wall, is an American rapper. He is currently affiliated with Swishahouse Records, having released several albums under the label as well as collaborating with other rappers signed to the label. He was formerly musical p…




AZ
Yeah 
Now dig 
You got, rich niggas right 
They do what they want to do 
Ha, and you got 
Broke niggas, you heard? 
They do what they gotta do 
Now ask yourself, which one are you 
Ha, fall back 

I had some problems 
And no one could seem to solve them 
But you found the answer 
Told me to take this chance 

Soakin' in Remy 
Sittin' back smokin' a twenty 
Shit is scabby 
The hustlin' is so in me 
Never so envy, got a style on max 
I'm like Po 
Packin' eighty four 
Now smile at that 
Unseen when I'm low 
But still right in your face 
I'm so skinny 
But that semi-autos right in my waist 
From Jags to Jeeps 

With them raggedy seats 
Just imagine how I'm movin' if we had any beats 
Beats relax me 
Good cheeba keeps me nasty 
Lower the smoke when I see the G's creepin' past me 
Duckin' a notch 
Bustin Dutches apart 
Love pussy wit pretty lips 
When you fuck it it fart 
Frina fro
Freak for the rims that glow 
Rock Timbs in the summer or ten below 
Blood in streets 
The signs of the drugs that's deep 
I'm just another nigga next up, tryin to eat 

You Know! 
Not a soul baby! 
It's all for y'all now  

But it seems y'all would rather 
See me hit 
Then see my rich 
Get bagged over some bullshit 
Then see me snitch 
Hopin' some days old bitch will leave me sick 
Like I'm a sucker for love wit some easy dick 
I did dirt through my days 
But hit my worth 
Even then I still made sure no kids got hurt 
Sweepin' next 
Been on since my feet got wet 
From the best turned vet 
Learned to speak direct 

My games jumpin'
We all had out days of barkin'
You could tell niggas styles by they ways of parkin'
While dispute it 
Doe got us so polluted 
Paranoid to the point its like we, over do it 
Police pressure 
Peep how the beasts suppress ya 
Rough up, hand-cuff and treat you lesser 
Toast on me 
Smoke spray your popouree 
y'all can bet ima rap how its supposed to be 

You Know! 
Not a soul baby! 
It's all for y'all now 
I got it locked, feel me! 

If in a game 
Get chills on a sniff on my chain 
It's only real, certain niggas mention my name 
Some relate 
Others stay numbin' the face 
Tryin; to keep steps ahead like we runnin' a race 
Nikes and Timbs 
Lady friends lime em slim 
Light make-up 
That shit that blend right wit the skin 
So what the issue? 
All dick sucks is still official 
Cold-steel nickles 
And Phil I'm still wit you 
Ice-bergen 
On the turn-pike mergin' 
Late night, right brake lights black the ??? 
Tree smokin'
Hustle the rap ima keep ropin'
Too many niggas got feeble motions
Distress got em 
Who else want to express they problems? 
Get upset 
But phil best respect the bottom 
To a false 
Feel a fake love or hate 
Write a wrong as long as the thugs relate 

You Know! 
Not a soul baby! 
It's all for y'all now 
What y'all want from me?
Yeah, y'all haters better get a hustle man 
Stop fuckin' wit me 
I'm tryin' to live me, nah mean? 
I been at the bottom 
I was risen 
Then I fell back down 
I'm tryin' to climb up man 
Get off my back baby 
It's all a game man don't hate me hate the game 
AZ the Visualiza return, once again 
Love life, hate, what the fuck

Written by: ELDRA DEBARGE, ELDRA P DE BARGE, ROD NAVARRO

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