"Problems" lyrics

You speak in my name, but you hardly know me
I fly your girl out to Spain, with J's in her suitcase and parcels loaded

I still got scars from homies, and we don't want problems, baby
Send me a text with a heart emoji, look
I'm lost on a path that's lonely, dark and lonely

Broken, I'm marching slowly, but if only you knew what it cost, bro
All of my wins took more than my loss, bro
Took me a chance, then I got me my bands

Then I ran up 25 grand on a Osco, wait
I don't do half days or a day off
I'm a 36524

I ain't gon' stop till I make me a mil
And I ain't gon' chill till Chile gon' see two more
That's karma, I ain't trying to mess with the devil

I've been a father, but bro, I gotta get up
There's money in my mind, then I mix it with marijuana
The handbag rider, zips in the ganja

Plugs on the charger, drugs in the lager
The girls on their knees, the curve got the grease
So I studied that shit, then I scored me the master

Nah, the bro got bands like Andre
I pulled 3,000, your girl outcast
Get up, smoke on a mountain, I'm money that rasta

No sports fan, but it's under my armor
So tell them what's good, bro
I counted up the figures, $100 a minute

I get it in double digits, I'm up on your television
I listen to Biggie Speeding, he told me just cause the limit
So I got that, I made the crowd go wild

Done a thousand miles on the road like I'm doing up white chicks
Made a million on stage cause the prize fit
28 shows, we played to that white bitch

Yeah, I moved me a gram like I toured the France
When I broke pedal bars like a cyclist
I broke from the east, gonna blow like Isis

Am I a ghost? I'ma cause you a crisis
I got bands on my last month's tape
Now I need more for my next week's song

Girl got home from my studio session
I still gon' fuck with my tech fleece on
Ride like a Harley, vroom

Thank God, babe, that my bed frame's strong
Then got a phone call up from my bro
When he got charged up for a 10G bond

I don't want my bro in chains
I don't want my bro in pain
I don't want bros no cash

If he's got no cash, then I'm sure that my bro gets paid
I don't want bros getting smoked in the day
You're loathe with some song that I wrote on a page

Look what I made
I don't want bros in their grave
I just want smoke in the J-Wave

Vroom, vroom
Can't rev me up, I'm a Tesla
Works when I'm bowed flat out like a stretcher

Yeah, I still got maids to the brickies
And maids to the chippies
The chip in a brick investor

Move with the balls in a yester
And I don't want to crack under pressure
Don't speak on my name, don't speak on my
You don't know what it cost, bro

All of my wins took more than my loss, bro
Took me a chance, then got me my bands
And I chased up 25 grand and my odds fell

I done do half days of a day off
I'm a three, six, five, two, four
I ain't gon' stop till I make me a mil