[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' n***as 'bout to wild out
How you do that there?
N***a, we don't care

[Verse 1: Problem]
Who that, talkin' 'bout, who that?
Run up on me? You get your ass beat blue black (Uh-huh)
Go on get nerve, I'm off the curb
Push mountains of herb, you n***as already heard
The bro Berg keep a pistol grip pump on his lap at all times (Times)
Wherever, however, 'cause young n***as stay tryin' (Uh)
See 'em and be like, “Huh, n***a, what?”
“Huh? Give a fuck like what?”
Uh, hell yeah, this the remix (Ayy), 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 n***as still good on the block, Timmy Duncan
Knockin' n***as out they style like a fuckin' fifty dumpin'
Labels can't advance me, that Cali n***a that got Diddy dancin' (Problem)
[Chorus: Problem, Wiz Khalifa]
Yeah, I'm just doin' my thang
Fingers in the sky
Bang-Bang-Bangin' my gang like
Ooh, gon' fall back
'Cause you don't want no problems like that
'Cause we gon' be like, "Huh? N***a, what?
Huh? Give a fuck, n***a, what?"
A n***a be like, "Huh? N***a, what?
Huh? Give a fuck, n***a, what?" (Hahaha)
A n***a be like

[Verse 2: Wiz Khalifa]
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, ho, 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, Wiz Khalifa, Chris Brown]
Yeah, I'm just doin' my thang (Hahaha)
Fingers in the sky
Bang-Bang-Bangin' my gang like (Uh)
Ooh, gon' fall back
'Cause you don't want no problems like that (Yeah)
'Cause we gon' be like, "Huh? N***a, what?
Huh? Give a fuck, n***a, what?"
A n***a be like, "Huh? N***a, what?
Huh? Give a fuck, n***a, what?" (Look)
A n***a be like

[Verse 3: Chris Brown, Problem]
Okay, it's OHB so, n***a, bag-bag
I got a ounce of that bounce in the Glad bag
Molly fuckin' up my liver, got a bad back
And if you tryna fuck with her, I'ma tax that
A-A-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 (What?)
A hundred n***as right behind me, that's the drum line
All you hear is, "Blat, blat," hit it one time
Fuck a punch line, n***a, had bread since the lunch line
I can put them soldiers on the front line
O-O-Open season, just n***a, 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, Tyga]
Yeah, I'm just doin' my thang
Fingers in the sky
Bang-Bang-Bangin' my gang like
Ooh, gon' fall back
'Cause you don't want no problems like that
'Cause we gon' be like, "Huh? N***a, what?
Huh? Give a fuck, n***a, what?"
A n***a be like, "Huh? N***a, what?
Huh? Give a fuck, n***a, what?"
A n***a be like (Ha!)

[Verse 4: Tyga]
Huh, bangin' out the truck
I'm T-Raww, bitch, gon' let a n***a fuck
Hu-Huh, bitch, you heard what I said
Your bitch is a bird, but I don't give her bread
Wha-What? Pro-Problem, pass the weed
These n***as 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!)
L-L.A., burner to your belly
My n***as OG's, keep the burner in the telly
Gettin' head 'til it ache, that's a motherfuckin' headache
Do this shit tonight, send it straight to Felli Felli
N***a, why? I'm sellin' dreams, the money team
N***as spend crack, but they ain't got no fiends
Got the juice and the cream, Wu-Tang, Rakim
I'm a motherfuckin' money machine, n***a

[Chorus: Problem, Tyga, Master P]
Yeah, I'm just doin' my thang (Ha!)
Fingers in the sky (Yeah)
Bang-Bang-Bangin' my gang like
Ooh, gon' fall back
How ya do that there? (What?)

[Verse 5: Master P]
Me and Problem gettin' paid
But don't fuck with you broke hoes, n***as, 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
N***as in the back, motherfucker, poppin' bottles
Chasin' bad bitches and them n***as 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 n***as wanna hate
Keep the chopper in the car 'case a n***a wanna play
She showed me the titties, I call them bitches Dhali
I know she a freak 'cause she gone off molly
Pu-Pushin' one-sixty when I'm ridin' in the Ghost
You ain't from 'round here, n***a, better walk slow, or get smoked