It Ain't a Problem

Rick Ross

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    It ain't a problem 'til I say it is
    Handle my problem, that's the way it is
    Always talkin like a bitch but that's the way he is
    After the ride, nobody'll know where he is - Triple C!

    When you serve a cat a couple of times
    Knowin he serve in a couple of towns
    Polaco, Pensacola, down to Duval
    It put you in the midn of a pimp like Too $hort
    Classy nigga walkin 'round with stacks
    But I'm gettin word that he talkin behind my back
    Now is the time to listen, you gotta pay attention
    He may pay a henchman, put him up on where you livin
    Tell him all your cars, makes and models
    Tell him how you on steaks and bottles
    Opium Sunday, Oxygen Tuesday
    How you go to the boxing gym tryin to lose weight
    He done told a nigga all your routes
    And now you got a lowlife tryin to figure you out
    Catch you in the driveway, trigger you out
    That's what killers about, that's what niggaz allow remember

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    Nigga please! You ain't a cap peeler
    Save that for your bathroom mirror
    No platoon dealer; you niggaz baboons
    Half gorilla, a camp of scrillers
    Triple C stamp the trillest
    I got B's I'ma spend it, I don't care what the bill is
    Them hoes stay at the billets
    And when they ask what year I tell 'em two thousand two million
    A rider without a motor, you got it right I'm a solider
    Long as it's loaded I'ma tote it
    I told ya - flow so cold, below frozen
    Like ice water over the Pro Tools
    But that's old news, update the topic
    What makes the prophet cut cake in projects
    I'ma show him how cupcake his squad is
    Duct tape embalmers for makin them comments

    Nigga I'm fresh out
    Beef it really ain't a problem, one call, half of your boys X'd out
    Jail ain't rehabilitate shit!
    Killers and dealers all I affiliate with
    Retaliate and I squeeze mags, you hit you went stiff
    And we ain't playin freeze tag, you better dip
    Chop soundin like a speed bag, that's it, set a date money I'm hungry
    So I'm robbin moms for that wake money
    It's Torch, you get a bomb from me - you wan' play?
    I survived more athletes than Barry Bonds trainin
    Name 'em - ain't a problem 'til I say it is
    Miss a payment I'll be waitin there, takin all your favorite shit
    Earrings, rings, watches, bracelets
    Chains and the flat screen, shawty that 'llac mean
    Meanin it's comin too, nigga what you wanna do?
    I send G to kill you, lay your daddy down in front of you nigga

    Y'all niggaz know who this is
    Nigga this is the homey nigga
    Y'all niggaz don't want no problems nigga
    Y'all niggaz see us in the club
    Y'all be havin y'all gorillas nigga
    But y'all niggaz already know nigga
    Triple C's nigga, and we out

    Song details

    Composition: Ric Ross, Richard Morales, and Kevin Belnavis

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