Problem Child

By DMX

On The Great Depression

Released on October 23, 2001

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{Mysonne} (DMX)

{Mysonne, Mysonne the problem child DMX Ruff Ryders}

(Wanna flow wanna problem)

{Problem Children, y'all niggas got problems}

(Wanna flow wanna problem)


[Chorus]

{But they don't want no problems} (Nah baby)

{But they don't want no problems} (Wanna flow wanna problem)

{But they don't want no problems nah nah they don't want no problems}

(Wanna flow wanna problem)

{But they don't want no problems}

{But they don't want no problems} (Wanna flow wanna problem)

{But they don't want no problems nah nah they don't want no problems}

(No problems I'm telling you baby)


[Verse 1: Mysonne]

Yo, yo I told niggas to pack they bags or grab they guns before I come

It's too late, y'all had your fun!

It's all over now! I don't wanna talk to niggas!

Popping shots like corks in niggas!

Sticking forks in niggas' cause they done!

Only reason y'all still breathing is cause y'all run!

When we bust shots, my nigga clutch Glocks

Broad daylight in front of precincts; fuck cops!

Niggas want pops? Then they die for them!

Kiss the barrel, cry for them!

Spirit leave your body, touch the sky for them

Fuck Voltron! See what me and mines form

In the .9 storm; death: time's gone!

I'm that cat that y'all niggas got your eyes on

Go to papi broke trying to get your pies on

The day that I'm gone I'm real fuck stardom

Niggas wanna talk, but they don't want no problems!


[Chorus]


[Verse 2: DMX]

All y'all niggas want is your heart back; dog, you pussy

Acting like you really wanna bark back; don't push me

Only room enough for one dog to hold the shit down

You cowards know it now (What!?) I'ma hold it down

When I'm done close it down; it's my shit here!

The fuck that nigga just say? Try shit here!

Come on, cupcake, y'all cats ain't even built like that

I done seen through the bullshit; I'm real like that

I know how to walk the dog, I know how to chase the cat

I know how to get a bone, I know how to bring it back

I know how to flip on a nigga, split him with the bat

I know how to train a pup to make sure they scratch

You motherfuckers don't want no problems, 'cause my revolver is solving them

One by one until it's all of them

Let that be a lesson to your mans and shit:

Keep your fucking mouth shut if your mans want spit, nigga!


[Chorus]


[Verse 3: Drag-On]

Well it's the kid that'll crush your head into a cake batter

Y'all know that cake mix but y'all don't wanna taste this shit

Guns I should've been arrested for

Y'all gone make my bullets expand like a lesbi jaw

Don't you test me, boy!

Don't fuck with X or Drag-to-the-Dash, 'cause once you dump in these bags

You drag to the trash dumpster, amongst the rest of them fags!

My poker got your skin looking like acupunctures

Keep a silence on the tip; can't afford the noise

My banger got a jagged edge like them four boys

If you hot, I'll Super Soak you, and you won't be able to dry it off

Just relax, take your last breath, and die it off!

Nothing but love I spread

But if you take advantage, the weight that's lead will rush your head

You sweat'll die your hair red, like my bitch Eve!

And no, I'm not a faggot, but I make niggas striptease in front of me

It's fun to me, bitches!


[Chorus]