Lyrics:
Yeah this The Sound of a man who been crowned
Not by others, by himself
He ain't really need ya, he checked his wealth
Not by the coin
Yeah
Damn all we got is
Feel like
All we got is problems
All we got is
Sometimes all we got is problem
Conflicted by this addiction of wanting
toward men
I continued on my rejection of the region I'd grown up in
I was not solely into African-American studies
I saw the biggest black leaders
problems, they comin' with it
And lately, I don't know how to feel
Are you with me 'cause you with me or you see dollar bills?
Salay got killed by
problems with em
That we should keep it black
Keep it cool under wraps
Government loves limiting knowledge and loves to double tax
What if we had stayed up
Stressed out by hoes? never
She want to try me? let her
Cause next time, I wont be so calm and hoe I will not let up
You know that I'm a stepper, kill hoes
narrows her eyes
Everyone looks at my mother she is one of
If not the most influential
Socialites in the city
He hands her two passes
A red one for her
Son you got problems when they tired
Of your style after one album
I'm not finished
You the dude I'mma chew up you my son
One of my sperm cells that
as I can)
I ain't never trust no bitch, I ain't never trust no man, yeah, yeah (huh?)
Pull up in a brand new Porsche, followed by a matte black van,
died yesterday
He died yesterday
Sing it baby
Let's Get Loud Let's Get Loud Let's Get Loud
Call me Tyson El Dominicano by the way
Hit the crowd hit
a god send
For a nigga that cross the line thats a problem
My only problem is for that one nigga I couldn’t solve em
Young black king restricted by his
a crummy
But mine's gettin' phatter
Yo' lips gettin' black a
To me it don't matter
Ya pay whatch owe a
Pla-ya fashoa
True mentality of a ghetto
I got the pack of Rough Riders in the back of the Pathfinder
You know the epilogue by James Todd Smith
I get swift with the lyrical gift
Hit you
of rich folks spitting on bums
A lot of hoodlums
These are just the bums that are really pissed off
Why? Probably 'cause they been ripped off by
southern
It ain't no thinkin' I was playin' I am not frontin
The mentality of a goon, I am not stuntin
Filet mignon with my food stamps
Car cosigned by my
Day turns to night as I rise from my grave
Black was the hole were I laid
Stalking the city to seek out your blood
I love when it showers from my
(KE on the Track) kodak, Kodak Black
Balling on these niggas
Don't act like you don't know, pussy
Me and Momo riding in a Chevy
(We sittin' high)
of girls
Only two kind of girls
Good ol' big ones and big old' good ones
Baby mama girl!
Not prejudice I like the light ones
White ones, black as night
And now a word from our sponsor
Do you have a problem bringing the freak out of your girl?
Is sex with her so boring that you think of other women
breeze
And my problems will flow away beyond the palm trees
[Chorus]
'But I gotta keep smoki'n and a smokijjjjn and a smokin on
I keep chokin
Hop out the the matte black truck “flex”
Diamonds on my neck And my ear “wet”
Big ole bulge in my pocket “check”
I’m just working my 1-2 they not
like daughter
Everything unplagued by her madame mother
The present mocks us, good Black people
With keen memories set fire to the bastards
Who ask us in
Black the fuck out been a million days since I seen the sun shining
And my mind way too dark to find the silver lining
Straight up out of Hell
I'm slashin' your throat
Your arms are too O.G. Maco to box with O.G. Wacko the G.O.A.T
I'm not a factor, I'm the whole problem
Down to subtract for
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