s true My, my, my, my problem is you A biggest problem, baby (My problem is you) Let me just say that Every night it's true My problem is you, yeah (My problem is you
in the air Is it you over there? Is it you over there? Is it you, is it you, is it you right there? Nigga, this ain't that shit that you used to bounce
players with white wives, peep they night lives while you could catch me in a crisp white five dark tinted, dijon-scented, with Al Green on my theme
, getcha sniff on or syringe in I'm really in these streets, they pretendin' You compare him to these creeps? You offend him Water and oil, you don't mix, you
doin' at me She's not on time, you know her hair ain't combed She's not dressed properly She's always wearin' jeans and this is a company Where you wear dresses and you
that ya DIE! If you're not Allah, then yo' ass gotta FRIE! Soon as life is for a life, without no remorse You fucked up BIG TIME, you should've finished
Green means time to go Go, move over, bro' You're moving way too slow Maybe you should know I'm the leader of the Western world The big decider in the
my baby, baby, baby girl this is for my baby girl because you never let me down she's my only girl (you are my world) This is my baby girl for my
on Al Green Gonna make Allen Iverson stick with his team Basketball was your dream, so live ya other life Don't go broke tryna flow, be you ain't that
, and fuck my old girl You can play the hell out, like those that came before ya Your style is butt, similar to a cobra That's your pimp strut But what you foes is
players with white wives, peep they night lives While you could catch me in a crisp white five Dark tinted, dijon-scented, with Al Green on, my theme
my old girl You can play the hell out, like those that came before ya Your style is butt, similar to a cobra That's your pimp strut But what you foes is
bust pipes And my HG's, UD'z, we just the type To do you in, that's my Annamette, checking the ruger And my Animalz, stay strapped, packing maneuver Clappin' is usual, Homicide Housing is
FUCK about gettin' popped Them thugs probably heard, left these two guns is al lot! It's my time to go, playa, I'm tryin' to go spittin' you For the
M.O.B. And I'm still real and give you What you need You want rhymes, you want dimes, you wants gats, you want cash And levas, out for my southsiders