Problems Songtext
von B.G.

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 one on quick
I′m paperchasing, trying to get rich
On a 6o day tour with my clique
She hit me while I'm on the floor and was like
Bae shit bad can moms spend a few nights?
I say bad, when it's 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 two neices, two nephews, two 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, "Could Mom stay?", 'cause it was bad
You ain′t said nothing bout cha whole fam
Look at my shit, it's fucked up
At it 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 off
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 pistol whipped, bitch get out!

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's wannabe, but a busta
So why he down visiting, he staying wit me
I put him under surveilence longer than a week
He don′t put 100% in his hygiene
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 Cleaveland
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

Look at this shit, Getcha lil stankin′ ass kids
Ya know what I'm saying?
Your uncle over there wearing my T-shirt
That motherfucker like what?
He must be like 54' inches or something like that and I just wear a 1X
And we got Tyrone and lil Tyronisha
That′s ignorant like a Mother fucker to name that lil girl "Tyronisha"
And Clarence and Uncle ray
Your lil brothers and all that shit, let em′ get the fuck up outta here
Fucking up everything
Ya know what im saying?
The only thing y'all motherfuckers brung here was a old VCR, the one that pop up
One of them old motherfuckers
Get yall old ass VCR and get the fuck up outta here
And, bitch, you turned my draws pink
Now getcha funky ass outta here
Bizzznitchh!