Like Whaaat (Remix)
Who dat, talkin’ bout, who dat?
Run up on me, you’ll get your ass beat blue black
Go on get nerve, I’m off the curb
Push mountains of herb, you *************s already heard
The bro Berg keep a pistol gripped pump on his lap at all times
Wherever, however, ’cause young *************s they trying
See ‘em and be like “huh, *************, what?”
“Huh? Give a ************* like what?”
Hell yeah, this the remix, these ******** comin’ harder than cement
Put the blow to they nose, no Kleenex
*************ning like the sun, no Phoenix
Diamond Lane gang wear it big, no 3X (free Miller)
You ********in’ foolie chucker
More *************s still good on the block, Timmy Duncan
Knocking *************s out they style like a ********g 50 dumpin'
Labels can’t advance me, that Cali ************* that got Diddy dancing (Problem!!)
[Hook: Problem]
I'm just doing my thang, fingers in the sky
Banging my gang like uh
Go on fall back, cause you don't want no problems like that
Cause we gonna be like huh, ************* what
Huh, give a *************, ************* whaat
Huh, ************* what
Huh, give a *************, ************* whaat
[Verse 2: Wiz Khalifa]
What’s smackin 30, under 30
I’m a young rich black man
What’s happening
No it ain’t Taylor, less' my hands is in
Grands I’mma spend, grams put them in
Seen that Bombay, ran from the gin
Staying low key, still they know me
Smoking OG, and I blow it by the O-Z
We faded ho please
I’m getting 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 you own ********
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 nothing a game
Stacking that paper, don’t get in their way
Or Rat-tat-tat
[Hook]
[Verse 3: Chris Brown]
Look, ok it’s OHB so *************, bag bag
I got an ounce of that bounce in a Glad bag
Molly ********g up my liver, got a bad back
And if you trying to ************* with her, I’mma tax that
Ass all on the floor, I’m trynna pour it up *************
Lean on my ************* so slow it up *************
And the police trynna pull up on the scene
Then they ask you what you seen
I ain’t seen *************t
A hundred *************s right behind me that’s the drum line
All you hear is ‘blat, blat’, hit it one time
************* a punch line, ************* had bread since the lunch line
I can put them soldiers on the front line
Open season, just ************* give me the reason
To bust, and just let it squeeze and
My rope-a-**** is the meanest
I box you up in the freezer
Comatose, paraplegic
I’m dodging the misdemeanors
Hoping I don’t get subpoenas but I…
[Hook]
[Verse 4: Tyga]
Huh? banging out the truck
I’m T-Raww, *************, go on let a ************* *************
Huh? ************* you heard what I said
Your ************* is a bird, but I don’t give her bread
What? Problem pass the ********
These *************s claim they ballin’
Then why they clothes free?
These mother********s cheap
Like a nose bleed seat
You ain’t gotta go to Miami
************* to feel the heat (WOO!)
LA, burner to your belly
My *************s OGs, keep the burner in the telly
Getting head till it ache, that’s a mother********g headache
Do this *************t tonight, send it straight to felly felly
************* Why? I’m selling dreams, the money team
*************s spend crack but they ain’t got no fiends
Got the juice and the cream
Wu-Tang, Raheim
I’m a mother********g, money machine *************
[Hook]
[Master P]
How ya do that there!
[Verse 5: Master P]
Probably getting paper
But don’t ************* with you broke hoes, *************s, or you haters
Maaan D. Howard with the mother********g Lakers
I represent the street, No Limit is the label
Throw your hoods up, mother******** where you from?
We in this ************* deep
And it can get dumb
*************s in the back mother******** poppin’ bottles
Chasing bad ******** and them *************s throwing dollars
Louis V down from my head to my toes
C-Murder in the pen, and that iron getting swole
Never gave a ************* ’bout no *************s wanna hate
Keep the chopper in the car, case a ************* wanna play
She showed me the ********, I call them ******** Dhali
I know she a freak, cause she gone off molly
Pu*************ng 160 when I’m riding in the go
You ain’t from round here, ************* better walk slow, or get smoked
Like Whaaat (Remix)LRC歌词
Who dat, talkin’ bout, who dat?
Run up on me, you’ll get your ass beat blue black
Go on get nerve, I’m off the curb
Push mountains of herb, you *************s already heard
The bro Berg keep a pistol gripped pump on his lap at all times
Wherever, however, ’cause young *************s they trying
See ‘em and be like “huh, *************, what?”
“Huh? Give a ************* like what?”
Hell yeah, this the remix, these ******** comin’ harder than cement
Put the blow to they nose, no Kleenex
*************ning like the sun, no Phoenix
Diamond Lane gang wear it big, no 3X (free Miller)
You ********in’ foolie chucker
More *************s still good on the block, Timmy Duncan
Knocking *************s out they style like a ********g 50 dumpin'
Labels can’t advance me, that Cali ************* that got Diddy dancing (Problem!!)
[Hook: Problem]
I'm just doing my thang, fingers in the sky
Banging my gang like uh
Go on fall back, cause you don't want no problems like that
Cause we gonna be like huh, ************* what
Huh, give a *************, ************* whaat
Huh, ************* what
Huh, give a *************, ************* whaat
[Verse 2: Wiz Khalifa]
What’s smackin 30, under 30
I’m a young rich black man
What’s happening
No it ain’t Taylor, less' my hands is in
Grands I’mma spend, grams put them in
Seen that Bombay, ran from the gin
Staying low key, still they know me
Smoking OG, and I blow it by the O-Z
We faded ho please
I’m getting 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 you own ********
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 nothing a game
Stacking that paper, don’t get in their way
Or Rat-tat-tat
[Hook]
[Verse 3: Chris Brown]
Look, ok it’s OHB so *************, bag bag
I got an ounce of that bounce in a Glad bag
Molly ********g up my liver, got a bad back
And if you trying to ************* with her, I’mma tax that
Ass all on the floor, I’m trynna pour it up *************
Lean on my ************* so slow it up *************
And the police trynna pull up on the scene
Then they ask you what you seen
I ain’t seen *************t
A hundred *************s right behind me that’s the drum line
All you hear is ‘blat, blat’, hit it one time
************* a punch line, ************* had bread since the lunch line
I can put them soldiers on the front line
Open season, just ************* give me the reason
To bust, and just let it squeeze and
My rope-a-**** is the meanest
I box you up in the freezer
Comatose, paraplegic
I’m dodging the misdemeanors
Hoping I don’t get subpoenas but I…
[Hook]
[Verse 4: Tyga]
Huh? banging out the truck
I’m T-Raww, *************, go on let a ************* *************
Huh? ************* you heard what I said
Your ************* is a bird, but I don’t give her bread
What? Problem pass the ********
These *************s claim they ballin’
Then why they clothes free?
These mother********s cheap
Like a nose bleed seat
You ain’t gotta go to Miami
************* to feel the heat (WOO!)
LA, burner to your belly
My *************s OGs, keep the burner in the telly
Getting head till it ache, that’s a mother********g headache
Do this *************t tonight, send it straight to felly felly
************* Why? I’m selling dreams, the money team
*************s spend crack but they ain’t got no fiends
Got the juice and the cream
Wu-Tang, Raheim
I’m a mother********g, money machine *************
[Hook]
[Master P]
How ya do that there!
[Verse 5: Master P]
Probably getting paper
But don’t ************* with you broke hoes, *************s, or you haters
Maaan D. Howard with the mother********g Lakers
I represent the street, No Limit is the label
Throw your hoods up, mother******** where you from?
We in this ************* deep
And it can get dumb
*************s in the back mother******** poppin’ bottles
Chasing bad ******** and them *************s throwing dollars
Louis V down from my head to my toes
C-Murder in the pen, and that iron getting swole
Never gave a ************* ’bout no *************s wanna hate
Keep the chopper in the car, case a ************* wanna play
She showed me the ********, I call them ******** Dhali
I know she a freak, cause she gone off molly
Pu*************ng 160 when I’m riding in the go
You ain’t from round here, ************* better walk slow, or get smoked
