Trouble DJ Quik (Ft. AMG)

[Verse 1: DJ Quik]
I'm not ya one hit wonder
And when you see me on the streets in a black jeep
Know I got the heat up under
Not up under the seat, up under my cheek
Like so close to me that when I move it squeaks
I ain't no big buff dude I'm a rap singer
I exercise one muscle that's my strap finger
And I can't call it how I see it no more
Cause these niggas'll take ya words back and twist em' like a pretzel
And these bitches be the same too
Comin' with that sob story crocodile tears trying to game you
And that's exactly what the game do
And if you ever get caught dirty with a nigga she gon' blame you
So what in the hell you want to floss her for?
It's supposed to be bout' what a baller nigga cost that ho (yeah)
You givin' a game of black eye in ya S-5
While you niggas kick back poppin' X you let that cuz' dry
And that bitch supposed to carry her own car note (c'mon, yep)
And don't be going for that shit "I got a sore throat" (yeah)
Give that bitch a couple of Sucrets (mmm hmm)
Or give that that ho that application down on Vernon to that duplex (see ya)

[Hook: AMG]
When I bump on this trouble
Niggas gettin' big money on the double
Fast lane, champagne, rubber to burn
Gettin' rich bitch is the only concern
When I bump on this trouble
Niggas gettin' big money on the double
Fast lane, champagne, rubber to burn
Gettin' rich bitch is the only concern
The only concern