99 problems
I got a one track mind
On this runaway train
And your runaway dime
Give me that runaway brain
I'm a baller and a player and she's all about the game
And I come to entertain
And she come after I came
Her name is Tatyana, or her name must be Christina
But when she get in to begging I tell her by like felicia
I think her name is McLaron, but she sure ain't CRV
That's the type of chick I see around but do hardly
Bitch, I'm up and I'm running as soon as you start me
Fresher than Chewbacca Shakka
White, tall, starched tee
My wolves bark like trees
Talk like G's
Nigga talk like me
I'm just rapping on the beat
Consider that I'm an artist
I'm there looking like the labels and bitches, I go the hardest
They're aiming at my wolves
Like they finna go to target
And you ain't gonna buy shit
I ain't surprised
I got 99 problems and a bitch ain't one
If you got a fucking problem come and get you some
And bring yo pistol gun
Me and my fucking pack of wolves hollerin
I wanted to kick a flow but I decided to right a speech
That's my word
You're getting to me but I ain't in your reach
You sit and gossip like a ho
And you know what hoes preach
These niggas go to church and in the front row sleepin
Roman ain't shit and his homie got a kid
Roman wants to be a chef and his homie planned to be a pig
Poppin pills with bitches
Plan to rehearse gigs
But you niggas don't phase me you must be crazy
I say what I want it ain't a but or a maybe and
Yeah she bad in her fucking C Class 80
Just like the next girl
"What's up baby?"
You want to fuck? You'll lay me but you can't replace me
Get inside her little heart and then she can't erase me
Amazing, amazing but her butt cake tasting
Appetizing antagonized with that categorizer
Sex with her and massages
I chop her up in garages