Rich Nigga Problems - Yella Beezy

I ain’t tryna argue if it ain’t 'bout a dollar

Yeah I’m out here grindin' hard like it’s no tomorrow

Tryna stuff a hundred bands right down in my joggers

These bitches actin' like they love a nigga, these hoes need an Oscar

I got rich nigga problems

Whoa-oh, whoa-oh, whoa, whoa, whoa-oh

I got rich nigga problems

Whoa-oh, whoa-oh, whoa, whoa, whoa-oh

I got rich nigga problems, if it ain’t 'bout a dollar

Yeah I’m out here grindin' hard like it’s no tomorrow

Tryna stuff a hundred bands right down in my joggers

These bitches actin' like they love a nigga, these hoes need an Oscar

I got rich nigga problems, these hoes get so awful

Say you need to play your part, ayy lil bitch get off me

Why don’t you come bring me a bag, that would be so thoughtful

Way a nigga pop these rubber bands, it’s makin' me naseous

Every day I’m saucin', so turned up and flossin'

Hopped up out the Audi then took off in the Rari

All these hoes that turned me down, I’m gon' make you sorry

Got that draco by my waist ho, yeah, you better be catious

I’m coolin' with my feet up, bitch boy don’t get beat up

Hit him with a haymaker and make him pick his teeth up

He love trappin' in designer, gettin' dope money in FILA’s

I know how to stay down, no I can’t fuck up my lil re-up

I ain’t tryna argue if it ain’t 'bout a dollar

Yeah I’m out here grindin' hard like it’s no tomorrow

Tryna stuff a hundred bands right down in my joggers

These bitches actin' like they love a nigga, these hoes need an Oscar

I got rich nigga problems

Whoa-oh, whoa-oh, whoa, whoa, whoa-oh

I got rich nigga problems

Whoa-oh, whoa-oh, whoa, whoa, whoa-oh

I got rich nigga problems

Hey, rich nigga, hey, I can fuck your bitch nigga

Cliff nigga, fuck around with stiff niggas

Don’t trip nigga, make your lil ho strip nigga

I’m lit nigga, put that shit on crip nigga

Ayy, I go gnarly

I’m not hurtin' and I’m not starvin'

Go retarded, lift my shirt and show my forty

Hey, drop top Porsches, hey, serve these fiends off in my Jordans

These all black Forces, let me run my bands up, had no Charleston

All white Lam, and I think I might just ride the horse one

Big Rolls Royces, that Bentley get to trottin', I ain’t talkin' 'bout horses

I keep hearin' voices

Say kill these niggas and start extortin' 'em

My bitches they gorgeous

My trap stay rollin' bitch, just like Forgis

I ain’t tryna argue if it ain’t 'bout a dollar

Yeah I’m out here grindin' hard like it’s no tomorrow

Tryna stuff a hundred bands right down in my joggers

These bitches actin' like they love a nigga, these hoes need an Oscar

I got rich nigga problems

Whoa-oh, whoa-oh, whoa, whoa, whoa-oh

I got rich nigga problems

Whoa-oh, whoa-oh, whoa, whoa, whoa-oh

I got rich nigga problems