Young Thug — Problem

Слушать Young Thug — Problem

Текст Young Thug — Problem

Okay, okay, so, YSL
We’re YSL AKA private flight gang, you know?
Yeah, man, we’re the private flight gang, you know?
Join in bitch

Bitches in love with these slimers, how many now?
Lil’ nigga money long as a Greyhound
Smokin’ that shit out the pound
We never lost it, it ain’t nothin’ to be found
These bitches come and go ’round and go ’round
I took the booty, nailed her like a mount
These bitches gon’ cover me, I call them gowns
Boy that’s your problem
I might fuck her but boy that’s your problem
Gettin’ extorted, then boy, that’s your problem
No need for abortions, I’ll nut on your momma
Send him up to God with no problem
Got icin’ on icin’ on boogers on boogers, lil’ bit’, that’s my problem (Bling bloaw)
Boy check out that Rollie it shine like a motherfuckin’ Prada

In a Bentley burnin’ loud and I’m gassin’
I got hundreds sittin’ on hundreds, that blue cheese, I’m not ranchin’
I done took off on a boot now I’m Paris Hilton dancing’
And I feel like Marilyn Manson and I want a fucking GRAMMY
Pass me that mud, please just pass me that mud
Sticky white birds, call ’em doves
Implants up under my girls
Please no-no fallin’ in love, no (Never)
I’m runnin’ round with a bitch, mouth ’bout thick as a cup
Meanwhile, they hatin’, I done spent me some dubs
And I’ma lie to that ho like a rug
Gettin’ money of course
Blatt! Cookin’ white like the Porsches
Shout out to Nelly Air Forces
Hop in that ‘Ghini ran right on your porch
Hop out like motherfuck the doors
Yeah, I’ma go ‘head and free Offset, yeah, he a Migo (Free Offset, nigga)

Bitches in love with these slimers, how many now?
Lil’ nigga money long as a Greyhound
Smokin’ that shit out the pound
We never lost it, it ain’t nothin’ to be found
These bitches come and go ’round and go ’round
I took the booty, nailed her like a mount
These bitches gon’ cover me, I call them gowns
Boy, that’s your problem
I might fuck her but boy that’s your problem
Gettin’ distorted lil’ boy, that’s your problem
No need for abortions, I’ll nut on your momma
Send him up to God with no problem
Got icin’ on icin’ on boogers on boogers, lil’ bit’, that’s my problem
Boy, check out that Rollie it shine like a motherfuckin’ Prada

Damn, we gon’ try you in these streets
We don’t G her with no sheets
How long ago? ‘Bout a week
All my attires are neat
All of her friends are unique
I wanna fuck at least three
Can I? (Yeah, sheesh)
He playin’? I pop him like pop tarts
I’ma demon, only see when dark
I look like I got a Visa card
Private fligth gang, yeah, agree with us
Dinosaur B’s and some C’s with us
I like that cat bald like an eagle, bruh
Since I ran up my racks ain’t no tamin’ us
Damn, it’s Friday, I need angel dust
I fuck that bitch if she starin’ (Yeah)
Pull up and hop out McLarens
Don’t say I won’t cause that’s darin’
I’ll shoot him with a bow and arrow
Yeah, my bitch is a motherfuckin’ horse with no saddle
Yeah, shoot that bitch one time with a double barrel

Bitches in love with these slimers, how many now?
Lil’ nigga money long as a Greyhound
Smokin’ that shit out the pound
We never lost it, it ain’t nothin’ to be found
These bitches come and go ’round and go ’round
I took the booty, nailed her like a mount
These bitches gon’ cover me, I call them gowns
Boy that’s your problem
I might fuck up a boy that’s your problem
Gettin’ extorted, lil’ boy, that’s your problem
No need for abortions, I’ll nut on your momma
Send him up to God with no problem
Got icin’ on icin’ on boogers on boogers, lil’ bit’, that’s my problem
Boy, check out that Rollie it shine like a motherfuckin’ Prada

Yah, yeah
Yah, yeah