Problem lyrics

[Intro]
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 b*tch

[Chorus]
b*tches in love with these slimers, how many now?
Lil' n*gga money long as a Greyhound
Smokin' that sh*t out the pound
We never lost it, it ain't nothin' to be found
These b*tches come and go 'round and go 'round
I took the booty, nailed her like a mount
These b*tches gon' cover me, I call them gowns
Boy that's your problem
I might f*ck 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 motherf*ckin' Prada

[Verse 1]
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 f*cking 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 b*tch, 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 motherf*ck the doors
Yeah, I'ma go 'head and free Offset, yeah, he a Migo (Free Offset, n*gga)
[Chorus]
b*tches in love with these slimers, how many now?
Lil' n*gga money long as a Greyhound
Smokin' that sh*t out the pound
We never lost it, it ain't nothin' to be found
These b*tches come and go 'round and go 'round
I took the booty, nailed her like a mount
These b*tches gon' cover me, I call them gowns
Boy, that's your problem
I might f*ck 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 motherf*ckin' Prada

[Verse 2]
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 f*ck 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 flight 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 f*ck that b*tch 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 b*tch is a motherf*ckin' horse with no saddle
Yeah, shoot that b*tch one time with a double barrel
[Chorus]
b*tches in love with these slimers, how many now?
Lil' n*gga money long as a Greyhound
Smokin' that sh*t out the pound
We never lost it, it ain't nothin' to be found
These b*tches come and go 'round and go 'round
I took the booty, nailed her like a mount
These b*tches gon' cover me, I call them gowns
Boy that's your problem
I might f*ck 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 motherf*ckin' Prada

[Outro]
Yah, yeah
Yah, yeah