Intro: Young Scooter 
(ATL Jacob, ATL Jacob) 

Chorus: Trouble 
Quarter mil' on ice, we call that bling-bling, uh-huh 
Runnin' up these racks on all you green beans, uh-huh 
Foreigns in the brick, look like a dream team, uh-huh 
Brick still on your list, I told you one thing, uh-huh 
Spoil my bitch, let's get rich, type of shit I'm on my own 
Teach my clique, know to hit, type of shit I'm on 
Take some trips, let's get lit, type of shit I'm on 
Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh 

Verse 1: Trouble 
Yeah, bitch head go dumb, wrist been feelin' numb 
Yeah, still totin' that gun like he on the run 
Run, run, run, Forrest, run, run, Forrest, run 
Yeah, might chase your boyfriend 'bout you, bitch, I'm done 
Yeah, I drop that dick, she said, "You hell with it" 
I bought her Chanel shoes to match Chanel with it (Chanel, Chanel) 
She asked for the snow, and I promised to never go tell niggas (Never go tell) 
I fucked with this ho and she sent her lil' buddy to sell with us 
Big shit poppin' 
Big dick energy 
Bitch, what's popin'? 
This bitch cocky 
Wrist'll get Follies 
Lit like Scottie 
Who else gettin' the pills in college? Hmm? (Skoob) 

Chorus: Trouble & 2 Chainz 
Quarter mil' on ice, we call that bling-bling, uh-huh 
Runnin' up these racks on all you green beans, uh-huh 
Foreigns in the brick, look like a dream team, uh-huh 
Brick still on your list, I told you one thing, uh-huh 
Spoil my bitch, let's get rich, type of shit I'm on my own 
Teach my clique, know to hit, type of shit I'm on 
Take some trips, let's get lit, type of shit I'm on 
Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh (Yeah, Tony) 

Verse 2: 2 Chainz
Cuban link on top of a Cuban link
'Nother Cuban link, pussy pink, bon appétit (Uh)
Come with me, you better not stink, I'll find you a sink (Uh, uh)
You think you can fuck with this flow, lil' nigga, then load up a beat
Code of the streets, I live that shit, you feel that shit (You feel it)
They bring me whips, I don't go to no dealership (Nah)
When I met the plug, tell me, where the fuck was you? (Was you?)
Partner had that dogfood, yabba-dabba-doo (Yabba-dabba-doo)
Big boy rider (Yeah), drip designer (Drip)
Draw down on him (Baow), I'll outline him (Yeah)
Southside with me (South), the whole Al-Qaeda (Qaeda)
Sell a nigga dummy (Tell him), Duct Tape flour 'em

Chorus: Trouble
Quarter mil' on ice, we call that bling-bling, uh-huh
Runnin' up these racks on all you green beans, uh-huh
Foreigns in the brick, look like a dream team, uh-huh
Brick still on your list, I told you one thing, uh-huh
Spoil my bitch, let's get rich, type of shit I'm on my own
Teach my clique, know to hit, type of shit I'm on
Take some trips, let's get lit, type of shit I'm on
Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh