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Problems Lyrics

"Problems" was written by Thomas, Diondria Elaine / Thornton, Christopher Alan / Griffin, Larry.
"Problems" was written by Thomas, Diondria Elaine / Thornton, Christopher Alan / Griffin, Larry.

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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 1 on quick
I'm paper chasing, trying to get rich on a 68 tour with my clique
She hit me while I'm on the floor and was like
Ain't shit bad cause moms finna unite

I say bad, when its 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 2 nieces, 2 nephews, 2 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 the mind state, to do the bad
You ain't said nothing 'bout cha whole fam

Look at my shit, it's fucked up at least 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 raw
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 pissed get out
(The whip)

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 wannabe with the bustas

So why he down visiting, he staying wit' me
I put him under surveillance longer than a week
He don't put 100% in his hygienes
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 Cleavland
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


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Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Ultra Tunes

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