[Intro]
Oh yeah!
Oh yeah!
Oh yeah!
Oh yeah!

[Pre-Hook: Problem]
Baby ‘bout her dollars (oh yeah)
Said she bust it open for her father (oh yeah, oh yeah)
She came from Colorado (oh yeah)
Say that she wanna be a model (oh yeah, oh yeah)
Now she popping bottles (oh yeah)
Living like she done hit the lotto (oh yeah oh yeah)
Baby, I ain’t mad at that (oh yeah)
Baby, I ain’t mad

[Hook]
There you go with yo bad azz, aye
There you go with yo bad azz, aye
There you go with yo bad azz, aye
There you go with yo bad azz, aye

[Verse One: Bad Lucc]
Ugh, colder than December, car out the shop
Big daddy did it again, like it or not
Pose for the camera, Snapchat poppin’
Sexy lil’ filter, go on and lick big poppa
BL smoother than Silk or Don Juan
Bone-in ribeye, well, tiger primes
Ball out, we all out, V-Lives and floss
90s boy, what y’all ‘bout?
Yeah, a real L.A.-stater
Watts City Raider, downtown like faithful
You should be with me every day of the week, poppin’
Diamond language, everything when they watchin’
Ride with the windows, I suppose you been told
Have a lil’ sip, no shoes in my ‘Lo
Boss, sir, and when you flossin’ her
I’ll still be awesome, bruh, we off of you
[Pre-Hook: Problem]
Baby ‘bout her dollars (oh yeah)
Said she bust it open for her father (oh yeah, oh yeah)
She came from Colorado (oh yeah)
Say that she wanna be a model (oh yeah, oh yeah)
Now she popping bottles (oh yeah)
Living like she done hit the lotto (oh yeah oh yeah)
Baby, I ain’t mad at that (oh yeah)
Baby, I ain’t mad

[Hook: Problem]
There you go with yo bad azz, ayy
There you go with yo bad azz, ayy
There you go with yo bad azz, ayy
There you go with yo bad azz, ayy

[Interlude: Problem]
Let me hear you say oooh, aaah
Let me hear you say oooh, aaah
It’s summertime in these L.A. streets

[Verse Two: Dom Kennedy]
My far sight got me looking through Porsche glass
Ho, Problem put a hook on this, real vets
See me out, I’m not rich, but I’m still on debt
It only cost a hundred bucks for the big Moët
Clear it out, except ladies tryna hit all that
Mix it with Don Julio to forget all that
I crack dimes, nines, eights, used to take ‘em
Where my mother stay, new pair of Vans every other day
The best is yet to come (Oh yeah)
Don’t be alarmed by this collaboration
White girls, Latinas, and Sanaa Lathan
Quik in the black Benz, 405 racing, yeah
It’s gon’ be better than getting head in the shower
48 laws of power, L.A. County is ours
N***as couldn’t afford to walk a day in my trousers
And I got on sweats, right on time, I guess, ayy
[Pre-Hook: Problem]
Baby ‘bout her dollars (oh yeah)
Said she bust it open for her father (oh yeah, oh yeah)
She came from Colorado (oh yeah)
Say that she wanna be a model (oh yeah, oh yeah)
Now she popping bottles (oh yeah)
Living like she done hit the lotto (oh yeah oh yeah)
Baby, I ain’t mad at that (oh yeah)
Baby, I ain’t mad

[Hook: Vocoder]
There you go with yo bad azz, aye
There you go with yo bad azz, aye
There you go with yo bad azz, aye
There you go with yo bad azz, aye

[Verse Three: Boogie]
Whoa-whoa, I see you seen everything but some progress
Like how you ten years in and you got next? (Oh you got next?)
Put a band on my head and bet I not sweat
In these Nike Tech Fleets and they got checks, in the process
I should be walking with this thing on me
‘Cause I can’t tell if you a fan or tryna bang on me
Shit, all this pressure and it never leave no stains on me
It only turned me to a diamond in my lane, homie
Shit, I hope you got a God up in your foundation
Like why you always hit a jam and look for salvation?
And shit, I gotta move in silence with a loud statement
The way we rose from a crack is quite groundbreaking
This shit make me wanna stay with the 40, hit the gang by my lonely
And probably hit the blade with a shorty
This shit make me wanna hit the hood so I can drink me a 40
And go and catch a friendly fade with the homies, know that’s real life
[Verse Four: DJ Quik]
Why people scared of Illuminati and you can’t even see it?
You should be more afraid of that water before you go pee in it
Now you can hate my voice and you can hate my music
But you can’t hate when you get good advice and choose not to use it
Haters are stuck in they mind, they paralyzed and they blind
They slither round on they stomachs until the bullets start flying
Coward, own up to your words, think ‘bout your beef and your actions
And when they zip up your bag, you get your true satisfaction
While I go back to the jeweler and I go back to the dealer
And celebrate with a carrying case of bottles if needed
I'm all champagned, I been weeded, and I feel so undepleted
That I can do this shit forever and don’t feel like I need it
Now I’m just effortless rapping
My tongue just moving all back-and-forth to the side while you clapping
You haters don’t know what happened
I feed my face up at Nobu, the door is stuck, it's can’t go through
My doctor told me I’m overweight and I think I’m supposed to! Yeah

[Outro: DJ Quik]
Jerks! I’ma sing it
There you go with yo bad azz, ayy (That’s what she tell me)
There you go with yo bad azz, ayy (Funky bitch)
There you go with yo…