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lirik lagu the problem – slaine

[intro: slaine]
i’m one of the best there is, believe it or not
i’m saying…
i ain’t playing either, i’m one of the best there ever was
so now i gotta prove it, now i gotta prove it, right?
here it is then

[verse 1: slaine]
you hate me, why? you wanna be like me
you ain’t got the attitude to walk in these nikes
do the wrong thing, don’t be calling me spike lee
i got a million dollar, homie, got a free white tee
[?] pusher cadi’ frank salemme
king of the town, ain’t leaving ’til the bank is empty
most my job’s to be hated with the thankless envy
b*tches i f*ck are groupies, nah, they ain’t just friendly
lawyers think i’m a scumbag, they can’t defend me
music is loud, my motherf*cking amps are bending
i’m so godd*mn famous for my rants offending
my expensive taste in pedico and expansive spending
f*ck that n.a, take a f*cking pill, quitter
shove your fingers in your throat, you’ll never be a ill spitter
my words are so murderous, absurd as the verbalist is
someone stop me, i’m hurting these kids

[hook: slaine]
don’t put your hands in the sky, put your hands in your pockets
and pull your money out, pay for my jams when i rock this
i ain’t here to tell you ’bout the world when it’s stopping
i’m just looking for a b*tch’s mouth to put my c*ck in
maybe i’m dirty, baby, maybe i’m crazy, wh0re
maybe i’m out my mind, what you think they paid me for?
i’m trynna get off of this earth that’s revolving
chip on my shoulder, so what you think? i got a problem?
[verse 2: xl]
now what’s the truth? who’s to blame? let me cut him loose
want the proof? he’s a hole in your bubblegoose
troubled youth full of pain and ready to shoot
i got the names on a list, starting singing the blues
spit the flame if i’m deranged with nothing to lose
then let it rain with razor blades and blood in your boots
you wanna push the limit? b*tch, i ain’t the one
you’ll be another dead jackass like ryan dunn
no high*speed crash, sh*t, no big fire
just two little sticks at length of piano wire
you can hate the man and you can hate the name
and get your ass f*cked up like a hooker in an airplane
my d*ck’s like the world, everybody’s on it
everyone except your fake icon, ain’t that ironic?
marginal success with the submarginal rep
but i’m paid for my verses while you rapping for respect

[hook: slaine]
don’t put your hands in the sky, put your hands in your pockets
and pull your money out, pay for my jams when i rock this
i ain’t here to tell you ’bout the world when it’s stopping
i’m just looking for a b*tch’s mouth to put my c*ck in
maybe i’m dirty, baby, maybe i’m crazy, wh0re
maybe i’m out my mind, what you think they paid me for?
i’m trynna get off of this earth that’s revolving
chip on my shoulder, so what you think? i got a problem?
[verse 3: termanology]
ayo, my blunts fat like kim kardashian’s ass
put a red dot on you like the j*panese flag
f*ck getting married, that’ll leave you happily sad
and i laugh at these f*gs trynna rap with each fad, like*
switching my style, that’ll be rad
pants tighter than the white michael jackson in bad
yeah, i’m big sh*t like a laxative tab
leave you in the trunk smelly like a african cav
i son so many rappers, i’m a passionate dad
flamethrower for a pen, gasoline, no pad
coat bags, toe tags, et cetera, et cetera
promoted through the projects, the present and the peddlers
this metal cup of ketel one make you a skeleton
get a gun, shoot yourself, do it just to prove yourself
and yeah i hang out with slaine from the town
but i’m still up in the hood moving ‘cane by the pound

- slaine

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