The Problem Is... - Murs, 9th Wonder, Sick Jacken

The problem is at the end of the day

No good things come my way

Feelin' some kind of way

I’ll hustle every day

Can you tell me what the problem is?

What the problem is

What the problem is

Wanna know what the problem is

Can you tell me what the problem is?

The problem is we all out for self

In a world that’s consumed by greed and wealth

It’s a dog-eat-dog and we cannibals for capital

The will to survive in an animal is natural

But the desire to rule

In the pursuit of pure power is the path of the fool

We chase crown till we laying face down

Our worldly possessions keep weighing us down

It rain clouds, I move like a quiet storm

No shroud, stand proud, why should I conform?

Beyond the norm I exceed the hype

Beyond all the bullshit and the stereotypes

Throw this in your stereo, this is my life

When a day’s so dark you would swear it was night

9th came with the beat to help me carry the light

So you can stand your ground whatever the fight

You work for yours like I work for mine

On some P. Rod shit, got a perfect grind

What’s next from the west like I’m first in line

From the coast that’s known for the surf and shine

Write rhymes like I’m trying to save the Earth in time

Before my girl get big and give birth to mine

I encourage you to live, put the worst behind

Never worry about the past, it ain’t worth your time

The problem is at the end of the day

No good things come our way

We need some kind of way

I’ll hustle every day

Can you tell me what the problem is?

What the problem is

What the problem is

Wanna know what the problem is

Can you tell me what the problem is?

Yeah, Sick Jacken, Psycho Realm baby

Let me start with what I know and let me put it in this flow

We got all the goods we need but got no money to grow

Hood got all the coke and weed but got no profit to show

Junkies got a tin of speed but their brain is moving slow

Education at an all-time low, still catch an all-time high

Off the kush, Dr. Greenthumb grow

I ain’t preaching, I’m just giving you a real twenty four

It’s a cold world these streets don’t feel anymore

There’s no way of tellin'

What turn rebelling streets to three time felons

The people’s government, the big time villains

Rob us blind, steal it, just the way it is

Take you for a gang of loot, but twenty dollars got you high and slankin'

Now tell me why’s that, they blame the lies in rap

But what about the media bullshit?

They disguising that

How we got access to ammo and any size of gat

But we can’t get a decent school for us to knowledge at

It’s called applied malice

They know they turn us into crime addicts

On the block chasing superficial status

Now do the mathematics

How many of us die in war

On the street or for oil, who’s keeping score?

The same cops you pay to protect and serve us

And the country turns its back even though you fought for it in service

When it comes to my life it’s never one problem

You never know about it till you walk the shoes that I’m in

The problem is at the end of the day

No good things come my way

Feelin' some kind of way

I’ll hustle every day

Can you tell me what the problem is?

What the problem is

What the problem is

Wanna know what the problem is

Can you tell me what the problem is?