Artist: Yella Beezy Album: Lite Work Vol II (Mixtape) Song: Rich Nigga Problems Typed by: AZ Lyrics I ain't tryna argue if it ain't 'bout a dollar Yeah I'm out here grindin' hard like it's no tomorrow Tryna stuff a hundred bands right down in my joggers These bitches actin' like they love a nigga, these hoes need an Oscar I got rich nigga problems Whoa-oh, whoa-oh, whoa, whoa, whoa-oh I got rich nigga problems Whoa-oh, whoa-oh, whoa, whoa, whoa-oh I got rich nigga problems, if it ain't 'bout a dollar Yeah I'm out here grindin' hard like it's no tomorrow Tryna stuff a hundred bands right down in my joggers These bitches actin' like they love a nigga, these hoes need an Oscar I got rich nigga problems, these hoes get so awful Say you need to play your part, ayy lil bitch get off me Why don't you come bring me a bag, that would be so thoughtful Way a nigga pop these rubber bands, it's makin' me naseous Every day I'm saucin', so turned up and flossin' Hopped up out the Audi then took off in the Rari All these hoes that turned me down, I'm gon' make you sorry Got that draco by my waist ho, yeah, you better be catious I'm coolin' with my feet up, bitch boy don't get beat up Hit him with a haymaker and make him pick his teeth up He love trappin' in designer, gettin' dope money in FILA's I know how to stay down, no I can't fuck up my lil re-up I ain't tryna argue if it ain't 'bout a dollar Yeah I'm out here grindin' hard like it's no tomorrow Tryna stuff a hundred bands right down in my joggers These bitches actin' like they love a nigga, these hoes need an Oscar I got rich nigga problems Whoa-oh, whoa-oh, whoa, whoa, whoa-oh I got rich nigga problems Whoa-oh, whoa-oh, whoa, whoa, whoa-oh I got rich nigga problems Hey, rich nigga, hey, I can fuck your bitch nigga Cliff nigga, fuck around with stiff niggas Don't trip nigga, make your lil ho strip nigga I'm lit nigga, put that shit on crip nigga Ayy, I go gnarly I'm not hurtin' and I'm not starvin' Go retarded, lift my shirt and show my forty Hey, drop top Porsches, hey, serve these fiends off in my Jordans These all black Forces, let me run my bands up, had no Charleston All white Lam, and I think I might just ride the horse one Big Rolls Royces, that Bentley get to trottin', I ain't talkin' 'bout horses I keep hearin' voices Say kill these niggas and start extortin' 'em My bitches they gorgeous My trap stay rollin' bitch, just like Forgis I ain't tryna argue if it ain't 'bout a dollar Yeah I'm out here grindin' hard like it's no tomorrow Tryna stuff a hundred bands right down in my joggers These bitches actin' like they love a nigga, these hoes need an Oscar I got rich nigga problems Whoa-oh, whoa-oh, whoa, whoa, whoa-oh I got rich nigga problems Whoa-oh, whoa-oh, whoa, whoa, whoa-oh I got rich nigga problems