Like Whaaat Remix (2013)

Текст песни Chris Brown feat Tyga, Problem, Wiz Khalifa, Master P - Like Whaaat Remix (2013)

[Intro: Problem]
No Limit forever
Diamond Lane, Master P in this motherfucker
(League of Starz)
Problem, it's 'bout to be a motherfuckin' problem
(Sorry Jaynari)
From my hood to your hood
My lil niggas 'bout to wild out
How you do that there?
Nigga, we don't care

[Verse 1: Problem]
Who that, talkin' 'bout, who that?
Run up on me? You get your ass beat blue black
Go on get nerve, I'm off the curb
Push mountains of herb, you niggas already heard
The bro Berg keep a pistol grip pump on his lap at all times
Wherever, however, 'cause young niggas stay tryin'
See 'em and be like, “Huh, nigga, what?”
“Huh? Give a fuck like what?”
Uh, hell yeah, this the remix, these bitches comin' harder than cement
The kind that put the blow to they nose, no Kleenex
Shinin' like the sun, no Phoenix
Diamond Lane gang, wear it big, no 3X free Miller
You gangbangin' foolie chucker
More niggas still good on the block, Timmy Duncan
Knockin' niggas out they style like a fuckin' 50 dumpin'
Labels can’t advance me, that Cali nigga that got Diddy dancin' (ha)
[Chorus: Problem]
Yeah, I'm just doin' my thang
Fingers in the sky
Bang- bang- banging my gang like ooh
Go on fall back
'Cause you don't want no problems like that
'Cause we gon' be like "Huh? Nigga what?
Huh? Give a fuck, nigga whaat?"
A nigga be like "Huh? Nigga what?
Huh? Give a fuck, nigga whaat?"
A nigga be like
[Verse 2: Wiz Khalifa]
Hahaha, uh, what’s smackin'?
30, under 30, I'm a young rich black man
Ooh, what’s happenin'?
No, it ain't Taylor, less my hands is in
Grands I'ma spend, grams put them in
Seen that Bombay, ran from the gin
Stayin' low key, still they know me
Smokin' OG, and I blow it by the O-Z
We faded, hoe, please
I'm gettin' stupid high, me and P-R-O-B
My J’s super old, Rick Owens, no sleeves
We at the after-party, you can bring your own weed
And we gon’ take shots until someone has to drive us home
Come from a place where they do tote that chrome
Smile on they face, but ain't nothin' a game
Stackin' that paper, don’t get in their way or rat-tat-tat
[Chorus: Problem]
Yeah, I'm just doin' my thang (hahaha)
Fingers in the sky
Bang- bang- banging my gang like ooh
Go on fall back
'Cause you don't want no problems like that
'Cause we gon' be like "Huh? Nigga what?
Huh? Give a fuck, nigga whaat?"
A nigga be like "Huh? Nigga what?
Huh? Give a fuck, nigga whaat?"
A nigga be like
[Verse 3: Chris Brown]
Look, okay, it’s OHB so nigga, bag bag
I got an ounce of that bounce in a Glad bag
Molly fuckin' up my liver, got a bad back
And if you tryna fuck with her, I'ma tax that
Ass all on the floor, I'm tryna pour it up, bitch
Lean on my dick, so slow it up, bitch
And the police tryna pull up on the scene
Then they ask you what you seen? I ain't seen shit
A hundred niggas right behind me that’s the drum line
All you hear is, "Blat, blat," hit it one time
Fuck a punch line, nigga, had bread since the lunch line
I can put them soldiers on the front line
Open season, just nigga give me the reason to bust
And just let it squeeze and my rope-a-dope is the meanest
I box you up in the freezer, comatose, paraplegic
I'm dodgin' the misdemeanors hopin' I don’t get subpoenas but I
[Chorus: Problem]
Yeah, I'm just doin' my thang
Fingers in the sky
Bang- bang- banging my gang like ooh
Go on fall back
'Cause you don't want no problems like that
'Cause we gon' be like "Huh? Nigga what?
Huh? Give a fuck, nigga whaat?"
A nigga be like "Huh? Nigga what?
Huh? Give a fuck, nigga whaat?"
A nigga be like

[Verse 4: Tyga]
(Ha!) Huh, bangin' out the truck
I'm T-Raww, bitch, gon' let a nigga fuck
Huh, bitch, you heard what I said
Your bitch is a bird, but I don’t give her bread
What? Problem pass the weed
These niggas claim they ballin', then why they clothes free?
These motherfuckers cheap like a nosebleed seat
You ain't gotta go to Miami, bitch, to feel the heat (woo!)
LA, burner to your belly
My niggas OGs, keep the burner in the telly
Gettin' head 'til it ache, that’s a motherfucking headache
Do this shit tonight, send it straight to felly felly
Nigga, why? I'm selling dreams, the money team
Niggas spend crack but they ain't got no fiends
Got the juice and the cream, Wu-Tang, Rakim
I'm a motherfuckin', money machine, nigga

[Chorus: Problem]
Yeah, I'm just doin' my thang
Fingers in the sky
Bang- bang- banging my gang like ooh
Go on fall back

[Interlude: Master P]
How ya do that there? (whaaat)

[Verse 5: Master P]
Me and Problem gettin' paid
But don’t fuck with you broke hoes, niggas, or you haters
Man D. Howard with the motherfuckin' Lakers
I represent the street, No Limit is the label
Throw your hoods up, motherfucker, where you from?
We in this bitch deep and it can get dumb
Niggas in the back, motherfucker, poppin' bottles
Chasin' bad bitches and them niggas throwin' dollars
Louis V down from my head to my toes
C-Murder in the pen, and that iron gettin' swole
Never gave a fuck ’bout no niggas wanna hate
Keep the chopper in the car, 'case a nigga wanna play
She showed me the titties, I call them bitches Dhali
I know she a freak, 'cause she gone off molly
Pushin' 160 when I'm ridin' in the Ghost
You ain't from 'round here, nigga, better walk slow, or get smoked