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Artist: Problem f/ Bad Lucc
Album:  Like Whaaat (S)
Song:   Like Whaaat
Typed by:

{League of Starz}
{Sorry Jaynari}

Who dat, talkin 'bout, who dat
Run up on me, you getcha ass beat blue black
Get on ya nerve, I'm off the curb
Push mountains of herb, you niggaz already heard
The bro Berg, keep a +Pistol Grip Pump+ on his lap at all time
Whatever however, cause young niggaz stay tryin
See 'em and be like HUH.. nigga, WHAT?
HUH! Give a fuck like WHAAAT~!
Blow my weed, smash the gas, hop up in my lane 
She be lookin way different thru these thousand dollars frames
M-M-Millionaire mind, fuck the thousand dollars brain
Thousand dollar lame only get loud around his gang-ass nigga
(What what) ass nigga (what what)
Compton f'real, you ain't gotta ask nigga (naw)
Floatin through the city like I'm on a raft nigga
Mike Vick with the shit, I don't need a pass, nigga
(Like what dat shit do?) 

[Chorus: Problem]
Yeah, I'm just doin my thang 
Fingers in the sky, b-b-bangin my gang
Like, ohhh, go and fall back
cause you don't want no pro'lems like that
Cause we gon' be like HUH.. nigga, WHAT?
HUH! Give a fuck, nigga WHAAAT~!
And they gon' be like HUH.. nigga, WHAT?
HUH! Give a fuck, nigga WHAAAT~!
And they gon' be like..

Ya money funny, you a clown
Ya bitch hit me up then I'm prol'ly goin down
It depends on how much of that shit I just had
Pill cool but I prefer my MDMA by the bag
Heavy hitter right here, all you other niggaz jabs
Big talkin 'bout beef 'til you serve they ass a slab
Do the math, hoes clash, cause I got them yellin "WOO~!" like Flair
When I'm done they always ask, +HOW YA DO DAT DERE+!
(Hol' up! What) Word to Master P and Young Bleed
I pull ya bitch she try to kick it fast as Chun-Li
Cause I'm a +Pimp C+/see, word to Bun B
Underground King, no checker, shout out to the bitch pressin
(Yeah, the weightlifters) r-r-reppin +Cal+ like Ripken
On fire right now, P burnin, no syphilis
S-S-Strap it up, you murder the pussy
Real beef, you don't talk, you just murder a pussy, see me?


[Bad Lucc]
Who dat? I betcha lady knew dat
She say he got a ticket on the molly, mami do dat (do dat!)
Chunkin with my round diamond lean I thought you knew dat
Pound half-Raider, hunnid sixes is where we grew dat
See me on the 10 with my squad, we so trill
or uptown with them foolish niggaz, choppin by the mill
I do it for my bros on lock, them hoes on stock
I used to whip Pirellis back when Nelly was on top
Now it's 442, my packa bang, rewind it 
My bitch is +Red+ as the +Hanas+, throw back on them Yokohamas
I'ma slam on the scraper, you touch the paper it's go 
Be at ya grante fo' sho', these hoes is thinkin it's snow
I get it goin my nig, I blow the horn, is you ready?
Disrespectful? Nigga please, I'm the one with the fetti
I'm goin out with a bang, it's Lane on the chain
I just show 'em with diamonds nigga, cause Lane is the gang!