"Problems" lyrics - LLOYD BANKS

Somebody call the ambulance that nigga chance got hit
Is the words screamed by the lone I seen that witnessed it
But I'm a take ya back to yesterday before I go on
A Friday niggas getting high drunk and so on, but hold on
There's something strange about the way it happened
'Cause he's usually strapping, 4 feeding and Glock packing
Laughing, discussions about how much he's been busting
But he ain't never hit a soul he just digging a deeper hole
But you know
How words travel through the gravel
Task force pass us all play the block as an avenue
Dice games, barbershops, crackheads and what have you
For nice chains niggas stab you
Like what happened to matthew
Chance bragging bout his war stories that nobody asked him
Ego so big he probably left the show and walked past it
He sure did
Spoken word over heard by pat
He from the projects up the block he slid in black pump back
He slanged a black note back
Before he told em what he heard
About the fraud taking credit for shells left on the curb, word
Nobody got hit but fuck it we riding
Matterfact grab the iron, everybody on the block dying
This nigga almost at my door crying
And matterfact cat don't you still owe me for that, that's right
So slim take em upstairs give em the mack
Here's the keys to the acc soon as it's done hit me back
Niggas bleed just like us the 5 done figured the rule worse
The notorious the moral of the story is
Crazy glue your lips and don't glorify the drama
Especially if your missing and need a tube to piss in
A plastic bag to dump in, a bladder disfunction
Mama catchin the holy ghost screaming and jumping
Praying my baby ain't never did nothing
You know what your right, but he was out there fronting
There shit to talk bout retaliation on his side
Air mack be shooting dopeheads and innocent kids died, right
Don't mark your grave 'cause I stand on it
Use your head fore I lay a couple of grand on it
Witness go poof watch your soul hit the roof
Your still disgracing, room made for your replacement
Face it, niggas won't miss ya watch when your murked
A few will learn from this shit
Your friends I'll make you a shirt
There'll be no block mourning you with 40's of beer
And marijuana smoke blown in the air, yeah