Artist: Pusha T f/ Tyler, the Creator Album: Fear of God Part 2: Let Us Pray Song: Trouble On My Mind Typed by: kirenamloh@msn.com [Pusha T] It's the blackout, 'rari got the back out Showin my black ass, engine in the glass house Started in the crack house, Obama went the back route Kill Bin Laden, 'nother four up in the black house Still got the Macs out, pull the mask down like a mascot Still trick with bitches, out wit' money or wit' ass shots G.O.O.D. had room for one more, I took the last spot Re-Up Gang, P the nigga, 'Ye done hit the jackpot Whole 'nother level Then you add fame, that's a whole 'nother devil Legit drug dealer, that's a whole 'nother bezel The carbon Audemar, that's a whole 'nother metal, but still keep it ghetto (WOO!) Behind the scenes, pull strings like Gepetto The gun blow steam, whistle like a tea kettle Runnin like the +Rebels+, UNLV Sport shoe on a pedal, I let you niggaz settle, YAH! [Chorus: Pusha T] Trouble on my mind, I got trouble on my mind Trouble on my mind, so much trouble on my mind Trouble on my mind, I got trouble on my mind Trouble on my mind, so much trouble on my mind [Tyler, the Creator] Pharrell said "Get 'em," so I got 'em Tripped on Bristol Palin then I accidentally shot 'em Then it ricocheted and killed the game, I'm a pro'lem 'cause I wanna fuck the world, but not a fan of usin condoms Pardon my French, I'm going hard as my dick when I envision my tip, on the crust of bitch lips Mr. Lipschitz has been trippin, since I mentioned Reptar Triceratops dinosaur dick I feel it in my gut... to kill these motherfucks is a must like the arm of my pits You niggaz comin shorter than a Bushwick Billy costume on sale during Christmas in Philly I'm well, not really, it's gettin kinda chilly Let's hit a couple bars and give some bitches wet willies Soaked, +Gettin' Jiggy, with It+, in Bel-Air's richest Wit' a bag of pills, couple berries and a biscuit [Chorus] [Tyler, the Creator] I'm a fuckin walking paradox and a really shitty rapper in my favorite pair of socks Ironed pair of Dockers, two Glocks cocked screamin (WESTSIIIIIIDE~!!!) wit' the speakers blastin a pair of Pacs' "Yonkers" ten milli, you're silly Thinkin that this 'preme wasn't free, willy (fuck you) The feeling is neutral, the gang is youthful and fuckin tighter than Chad Hugo's pupils It's Wolf Gang and the.. [Pusha T] with the Re-Up's a helluva buzz Rick James said, "Cocaine's a helluva drug" Who else could put the hipsters with felons and thugs and paint a perfect picture of what sellin it does? This is for the critics, who doubted the chemistry Two different worlds, same symmetry And this black art, see the wizardry When you at the top of your game, you make enemies You'll NEVER finish me [Chorus]