PROBLEM
Bun B & Sheek Louch Feat. The Game Lyrics

I think we got a problem, got a got a problem
There's trouble brewing and it's getting serious

Think we got a problem, mask on, show you how to rob 'em
Wearing a mask and showing you how to rob

Revolver, show you how to solve'm
Using a revolver to solve problems

Drivin' down Harlem, the Aston a problem
Driving down Harlem with an Aston Martin and attracting attention

No tint fishbowl it ain't hard to spot him
With no tint, the car is easy to spot

Think we got a problem, weed got too much
Having too much weed is a problem

Only thing damn I'm down to my last dutch
The only thing left is the last Dutch master blunt

Think we got a problem, but really it ain't dough
Money isn't the real problem

There's one of me, and these bitches I count about three four
There are more women than men, creating a problem

Think we got a problem, the homey just all talk
The friend is all talk and won't follow through

He ain't gon' pop a balloon with a pitch fork
He won't be able to do anything with a pitchfork

Think we got a problem in the club with this dogg
There's trouble in the club with this dog

Rude boy, starks, ladies, everybody
Everyone is involved in the problem

Think we got a problem, Game in Manhattan
The Game is in Manhattan and there's a problem

Black on black Aston, the 21 strapped in
The car is black with black leather interior and 21 people are armed

Dominican chick ridin' shotty all strapped in
A Dominican woman is in the passenger seat with a gun

Customize the dash on my shotgun strapped in
The shotgun is customized and ready to go

Cops on the shoulder gotta pull a Hova
The Game needs to flee to avoid getting pulled over like Jay-Z

Time to fade to black cause I ain't pullin' ova
It's time to disappear, because he's not pulling over

The engine is a problem, that ain't no question
The engine is causing trouble

Pop the trunk see the speakers kickin' like Beckham
The trunk has powerful subwoofers that vibrate heavily

Think we got a problem, Sheek know I'm hot
Sheek Louch knows there's trouble

Kiss and Styles should make me a member of the Lox
Kiss and Styles P should let him join their rap group, The Lox

I take all the beats, I remember how to box
He can handle all the beats and also remembers how to fight

If I ever get knocked out, I remember how to pop
If he gets knocked out, he knows how to retaliate

Remember how to load everything inside my glock
He knows how to load his gun

Ask the niggas in the hood 'cause they remember who I shot
People in the neighborhood know who he's shot

Think we got a problem, I snitched on myself
He's admitting to snitching on himself

And I hate rats so I dugg a ditch for myself, what
He dug a hole for himself and feels regretful

Well it's the king of the trill Bun B'der you know the name
Introducing himself as the king of the trill, Bun B'der

And the streets is like the NBA, I love this game
He loves the game of the streets like basketball

Keep a bottle of Henessey, a blunt and that purp
He has Hennessy, a blunt, and purple weed

With my hand up on my heater, and my killaz on churp
He's armed with a gun and his killers are ready

You see me one deep in the spot, think I'm slippin', try ya luck
People might think he's alone, but he has backup

'Cause I got sixteen homeys with me, that stay ready to buck
He has 16 friends with him, who are armed and ready to fight

You can duck dodge or dive, but it won't do diddley squat
Trying to dodge or escape won't help

But leave ya with a leaky liver and both ya kidneys shot
They'll shoot their victim in the liver and both kidneys

But you may not pimpin' I ain't fin to ask for it
He won't ask for someone's respect

My money, my hood or my respect, I'm a blast for it
He'll fight for his money, hood, or respect

You can't push fast forward, rewind or pause
There's no escape or changing the situation

I'm a beat you till you shittin' ya draws, so call the laws cause
He'll make his opponent soil themselves, so the police should be called