Trouble on My Mind (ft Tyler, The Creator)

It’s the blackout, ‘Rari got the back out
Showing my black ass, engine in the glass house
Started in the crack house, Obama went the back route
Kill bin Laden, ‘nother four up in the black house
Still got the Macs out, pull the mask down like a mascot
Still trick with bitches, out with money or with ass shots
GOOD had room for one more, I took the last spot
Re-Up Gang, P the ni***, ‘Ye done hit the jackpot
Whole ‘nother level, then you add fame
That’s a whole ‘nother devil, legit drug dealer
That’s a whole ‘nother bezel, the carbon Audemar
That’s a whole ‘nother metal, but still keep it ghetto
Behind the scenes, pull strings like Gepetto
The gun blow steam, whistle like a tea kettle
Runnin’ like the rebels, UNLV
Sport shoe on a pedal, I let you niggas settle (yeugh!)

Trouble on my mind
I got trouble on my mind
Trouble on my mind
So much trouble on my mind
Trouble on my mind
I got trouble on my mind
Trouble on my mind
So much trouble on my mind

Pharrell said ‘get ‘em’, so I got ‘em
Tripped on Bristol Palin then I accidentally shot ‘em
Then it ricocheted and killed the game, I’m a problem
‘Cause I wanna f*** the world but not a fan of using condoms
Pardon my French, I’m going hard as my dick
When I envision my tip on the crust of bitch lips
Mr. Lipschitz has been trippin’
Since I mentioned Reptar triceratops dinosaur dick
I feel it in my gut to kill these muthafucks
Is a must, like the arm of my pits
You niggas coming shorter than a Bushwick Billy costume
On sale during Christmas in Philly
Um, well, not really, it’s getting kinda chilly
Let’s hit a couple bars and give some bitches wet willies
Soaked, getting jiggy with it in Bel-Air’s richest
With a bag of pills, couple berries and a biscuit

Trouble on my mind
I got trouble on my mind
Trouble on my mind
So much trouble on my mind

I’m a fuc*** walking paradox
And a really shitty rapper in my favorite pair of socks
Ironed pair of dockers, two Glocks cocked screamin’, ‘West side!’
With the speakers blastin’ a pair of Pacs
Yonkers 10 milli, you’re silly
Thinkin’ that this ‘preme wasn’t free, willy
The feeling is neutral, the gang is youthful
And fuckin’ tighter than Chad Hugo’s pupils, it’s Wolf Gang and the

With the Re-Up’s a helluva buzz
Rick James said cocaine’s a helluva drug
Who else could put the hipsters with felons and thugs
And paint a perfect picture of what sellin’ it does?
This is for the critics, who doubted the chemistry
Two different worlds, same symmetry
And this black art, see the wizardry when you at the top
Of your game, you make enemies, you’ll never finish me

Trouble on my mind
I got trouble on my mind
Trouble on my mind
So much trouble on my mind