PROBLEMATIC Lyrics
[Chorus: Ty Dolla $ign]
I feel like I beat a murder, murder
Fuckin’ on a bitch you never heard of, heard of
[Verse 1: Kanye West]
That Pope like the leader of the Vatican, he do it again?
Everything I do, they do, guess Yeezy set the trend
And we in this bitch again, time to get rich again (Throw your motherfuckin’ hands)
They lookin’ like prey, I guess that’s why they prayin’
And when you flyin’ private, it can’t be no delayin’
When I speak my mind, it’s gon’ be some lawsuits and furniture movin’
I gotta haul through like when you be movin’
I gotta fly to Japan just to bе secluded
They did no damagе, what I give ’em? No chances
Even if they get a chance, here’s panic like they know Spanish
How I brand all of these clothes?
How every tantrum I throw make an anthem for hoes?
This my life, not a quote
[Chorus: Ty Dolla $ign]
I feel like I beat a murder, murder
Fuckin’ on a bitch you never heard of, heard of
[Verse 2: Kanye West & Ty Dolla $ign]
I’ma take all my baldies to Giorgio Baldis
Throw my dick a party
Your dress code upscale, used to shop at Aldis
I ran up some numbers, now I got what you all need
Give your homegirl the boric acid, save the summer
New abs, she droppin’ fast, it’s time to come up
Black out
Passin‘ out and then she wakin’ up gorgeous
I’m not racist, it’s a preference
And my bitch lookin’ like a reference
Don’t I make the rules like a referee?
Come get on your knees, shawty, I got needs
She a loud mouth
I need to sign and seal a couple brand new deals
Gotta get this shit off my chest, I got some shit to spill
Passin’ out NDAs, nigga, deal with it after
I just fucked the world raw, she need a morning after
And then the morning after
And I quote, “It’s only one G.O.A.T.,” let you have your fun, though
Run the block like Mutombo, you had it on loan
Every day in New Jersey, on my way to New York
I was late to every meeting, in my queen’s tunnel
But all the hoes in Hoboken know
If I seent you outside with the open-toes
You might get you a trip to the Poconos
You might have to tell your man a Pinocchio
That was a jokey-joke
That wasn’t nowhere near as funny when you brokey-broke
Crying in high school over a high school bitch
And she still in the dark takin’ night school, bitch
Look at how we made it like we Mike WiLL, bitch
Wish somebody woulda warned us
When I was fifteen, my soulmate wasn’t born yet
African king in a different time
We got multiple wives too, just at different times
Picture this, if every room got a different bitch
Do that make me a po-nigga-mist?
Without the deals, I guarantee I’m still nigga rich
Shit is fuckin’ ridiculous