Trouble On My Mind - Pusha T, Tyler, The Creator

It’s the blackout, ‘rari got the back out

Showing my black ass, engine in the glass house

Started in the crack house, Obama went the back route

Kill Bin Laden, another 4 up in the black house

Still got the Macs out, pull the mask down like a mascot

Still trick with bitches out with money or with ass shots

G.O.O.D had room for one more, I took the last spot

Re-up gang Peter nigga, yey done hit the jackpot

Whole ‘nother level, then you add fame

That’s a whole ‘nother devil, legit drug dealer

That’s a whole ‘nother bezel, the carbon Audemar

That’s a whole ‘nother metal, but still keep it ghetto

Behind the scenes, pull strings like Gepetto

The gun blow steam, whistle like a tea kettle

Runnin' like the rebels

UNLV* sport shoe on a pedal, I let you niggas settle

Trouble on my mind

I got trouble on my mind

Trouble on my mind

So much trouble on my mind

Pharrell said, «Get ‘em,» so I got ‘em

Tripped on Bristol Palin then I accidentally shot ‘em

Then it ricocheted and killed the game

I’m a problem

'Cause I wanna fuck the world but not a fan of using condoms

Pardon my French, I’m going hard as my dick

When I envision my tip on the crust of bitch’s lips

Mr. Lipschitz has been trippin' since I mentioned Reptar’s

Triceratops dinosaur dick

I feel it in my gut to kill these motherfucks

As a must like the arm of my pits

You niggas coming shorter than a Bush Wick Billy costume

On sale during Christmas in Philly

Uhm, well, not really, it’s gettin' kinda chilly

Let’s hit a couple bars and get some bitches wet willies

Soaked, getting' jiggy with it in Bel-Air's richest

With a bag of pills, couple berries and a biscuit

I’m a fucking walking paradox

And a really shitty rapper in my favorite pair of socks ironed pair of dockers

Two Glocks cocked screamin' West Side!

With the speakers blastin' a pair o' pacs

Yonkers 10 milli, you’re silly

Thinkin' that this ‘Preme wasn’t Free Willy

The feeling is neutral, the gang is youthful

And fuckin' tighter than Chad Hugo’s pupils

It’s Wolf Gang and the

With the re-up's a helluva buzz

Rick James said cocaine’s a helluva drug

Who else could put the hipsters with felons and thugs

And paint a perfect picture what sellin' it does?

This is for the critics, who doubted the chemistry

Two different worlds, same symmetry

And this black art, see the wizardry

When you at the top of your game, you make enemies

You’ll never finish me