Young Thug

Young Thug - Problem lyrics

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Okay okay, so, YSL

We're YSL aka private fly gang you know

Yeah, we're the private fly gang you know... join in bitch



Bitches in love with these slimers, how many now?

Lil nigga money long as a Greyhound

Smokin' that shit out the pound

We never lost it, it ain't nothin' to be found

These bitches come and go round and go round

I took the booty, nut just like a Mound

These bitches gon' cover me, I call them gowns

Boy that's your problem

I might f**k up a 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 bitch that's my problem

Boy check out that Rollie it shine like a motherf**kin' problem



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 my boo now I'm (?) dancin'

And I feel like Marilyn Manson and I want a f**king 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

I'm runnin' round with a bitch, mine 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

Cookin' white like the Porsches

Shout out to Nelly Air Forces

Hop in that guinea ran right on your porch

Hop out like motherf**k the doors

Yeah, I'ma go ahead and free Offset, yeah he a Migo

(Free Offset nigga)



Bitches in love with these slimers, how many now?

Lil nigga money long as a Greyhound

Smokin' that shit out the pound

We never lost it, it ain't nothin' to be found

These bitches come and go round and go round

I took the booty, nut just like a Mound

These bitches gon' cover me, I call them gowns

Boy that's your problem

I might f**k up a 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 bitch that's my problem

Boy check out that Rollie it shine like a motherf**kin' problem



Damn, we gon' try you in these streets

We gon' 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**k 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 fly 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**k that bitch if she starin'

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 bitch is a motherf**kin' horse with no saddle

Yeah, shoot that bitch one time with a double barrel



Bitches in love with these slimers, how many now?

Lil nigga money long as a Greyhound

Smokin' that shit out the pound

We never lost it, it ain't nothin' to be found

These bitches come and go round and go round

I took the booty, nut just like a Mound

These bitches gon' cover me, I call them gowns

Boy that's your problem

I might f**k up a 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 bitch that's my problem

Boy check out that Rollie it shine like a motherf**kin' problem



Yaaaaa, yeah

Yaaaaa, yeah
Get this song at:
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amazon.com

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Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: ?

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Language: English

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