Real problem chords by 
Mg Sleepy 
N/A
Key: Gb major•
Verse 1
F#
All right, yep I get higher than a fuck,
got a real problem
Bitch, I need a mansion with a lake so I can
F#
All right, yeah,
I'ma come on here like that
All right, yep I get higher than a
fuck, I got a real problem
Bitch, I need a mansion with a
lake so I can chill by it
My nigga snuck his blicky in so
don't get killed by it
Told this bitch I ain't your baby dad,
so who the real father?
Put my boots on and step on shit just
like a drill sergeant
I'm the type to serve a eighth of
weed from out a pill bottle
Hit this bitch and took the rubber off
and made her kiss condom
I see my ex broke as the fuck, I
know this bitch bother
She suck the fingers when we
fuck, I know this bitch toxic
I bought this bitch a
Happy
Meal and gave her six dollars
I done fought two bitches in
Manhattan at the rich college
I walked in,
set up the mic, and sat the blick by
I said, nigga, got that science out his chain,
alright
Yeah, nigga, that is not no
VVS, I got the big diamonds
See, I can melt your tiny
chain using a big lighter
I'm the type to walk in with some
F#
blood s and get the cribs fired
Big dumper, sold so many grounds,
I got my whip tired
F#
I crashed,
got took off the wheels and bought the big tires
F#
Crashed a rental
Honda, accidental, now my bitch drivin'
F#
This n***a came through, took the
Draco, now we blick fightin'
I'm at yo' baby mom's with
yo' lil' son, watchin' the
Teen
Titans
This n***a bricks you off the perc,
spillin' the lean by me
Steam trippin',
walked in off the walk, wearin' some weak
Nikes
Wood trippin',
it keep goin' out, I need to relight it
N****s out this bitch hirin' from gang,
they finna keep hirin'
F#
Shut yo' kid up before we fuck, because
he keep cryin'
Ten -thirty -seven, only the gang,
you cannot sit by us
F#
All our jury, it's a hundred plus,
we rockin' big diamonds
Five ends just pokin' out my pock
F#
et with my blick by me
Bad bitch can't let her eat me
up, cause she be dick bitin'
Knock a n***a out without
my strap like I'm
Mike
Tyson
But really though, you catch me out in pub lic,
F#
I am not fightin'
I love when n****s crack jokes,
n***a crack this
She stressed out her baby,
dad a bum and a crackhead
Snitchin' ass n***a did the
same shit as dad did
Rap bitch thought she had teeth,
but she had piss
He tryna rock out with his chopper,
on some rad shit
I'm tryna make his body lock
up on some mad shit
Them low bows is not hittin',
throw that in the trash can
That dick ridin' gon' get you pregnant,
n***a, with your fag ass
Life's one, two, three,
that's how long it take to clear a scene
F#
He must be off his rock,
cause n****s think he fearin' me
Bro, a chef, he make it lock up,
he a turner, two to three
I'll leave this bitch with you,
if she bless you when you sneeze
F#
For the love of money,
it'll make a nigga do some strange shit
Crash out and test me, nigga,
I'ma make you fame
Let's link up and kill each other,
let me know, bitch, I'll arrange it
Nigga, try to tweak with me,
Outro 1
dab for all that playin'
F#
F#
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TunerE A D G B E
ChordsF#
F#
Capo: 4
Transpose: 0
0
Autoscroll20%
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