[Intro: Problem]
Yeah, ooh
Van Gogh
Yeah, yeah, shit

[Chorus: Problem]
I'm getting loose, lil' bitch, getting loose
I don't wanna know the truth, got stars in my roof, yeah
I'm getting loose, young nigga, getting loose
I ain't going for the floof, getting head in the booth, yeah
I'm getting loose, lil' bitch, getting loose
I don't wanna know the truth, got stars in my roof, yeah
I'm getting loose, young nigga, getting loose
I ain't going for the floof, getting head in the booth, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, shit, I ain't going for the floof, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, no way, I ain't going for the floof, what?

[Verse 1: Curren$y]
Uh, scrapers in the city, Daytons on the 57
Chevy chrome, suspension four switcher
LS engine, bitches came with the interior
Dope pot, stir it up, fumes got her tearing up
'79 Malibu, mash down the avenue
If them niggas really wanna race, bring the bag through
Came through in the space coupe, everything new
Umbrellas in the door, galaxy in the roof
Boss in the booth, sharks after the loot
Be cool, motherfucker, ain't nobody asked you
Goin' where the money at, came back with all that
Blabber-mouth bitch gave my niggas the treasure map
We know where it's at, muhfucker, forget a plaque
For twice what you pay, homeboy, you could get it back
We could call a private plane like a taxi cab
Crib with extended driveway and a heli-pad, bitch
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