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If you havin girl problems I feel bad for you, son
I got 99 problems, but a bitch ain't one
I got the Rap Patrol on the gat patrol
Foes that wanna make sure my casket's closed
Rap critics that say he's "Money, Cash, Hoes"
I'm from the hood stupid, what type of facts are those?
If you grew up with holes in zapatos
You'd celebrate the minute you was havin dough
I'm like fuck critics, you can kiss my whole asshole
If you don't like my lyrics, you can press forward
Got beef with radio if I don't play they show
they don't play my hits - well I don't give a shit, SO!
Rap mags try and use my black ass
So advertisers can give 'em more cash for ads, fuckers!
I don't what you take me as
Or understand the intelligence that Jay-Z has
I'm from, rags to riches, niggaz I ain't dumb
I got 99 problems, but a bitch ain't one - hit me!
99 problems but a bitch ain't one
If you havin girl problems I feel bad for you son
I got 99 problems, but a bitch ain't one - hit me!
The year is ninety-four, in my trunk is raw
In my rearview mirror is the motherfuckin law
Got two y'all, pull over the car or (hmm)
bounce on the Devil, put the pedal to the floor
And I ain't tryin to see no highway chase with Jay
Plus I got a few dollars, I can fight the case
So I, pull over to the of the road
I heard "Son do you what I'm stoppin you for?"
Cause I'm and I'm black and my hat's real low
Or do I look like a mindreader sir? I don't know
Am I under arrest or should I guess some mo'?
"Well you was fifty-five in a fifty-four;
license and registration and step out of the car -
are you carryin a weapon on you? I know a lot of you are"
I ain't steppin out of shit, all my paper's legit
"Well do you mind if I look the car a bit?"
Well my glove compartment is locked, so is the trunk in the back
And I know my rights, so you gon' need a warrant for that
"Aren't you sharp as a tack! You some type of lawyer or somethin, somebody or somethin"
Child I ain't passed the bar, but I know a little bit
Enough that you won't illegally search my shit
"Well we'll see how smart you are when the canine comes"
I got 99 problems, but a bitch ain't one - hit me!
99 problems but a bitch ain't one
If you havin girl problems I feel bad for you son
I got 99 problems, but a bitch ain't one - hit me!
99 problems but a bitch ain't one
If you havin girl problems I feel bad for you son
I got 99 problems, but a bitch ain't one - hit me!
Now once upon a time, not too long ago
A nigga like myself had to strongarm a hoe
This is not a hoe in the sense of havin a pussy
But a pussy havin no God damn sense, try an' me
I try to him, talk to the Lord
Pray for him, but some fools just to perform
You know the type, loud as a motorbike
But wouldn't bust a grape in a fruit fight
And only thing that's gon' happen is I'ma get to clappin and
he and his boys gon' be yappin to the Captain
And there I go, in the Kit-Kat again
Back through the system with the riff-raff again
Fiends on the floor, scratchin again
Paparazzis they cameras, snappin them
D.A. try to give a nigga shaft again
Half a mill' for bail cause I'm African
All because this fool was harassin them
Tryin to play the boy like he's saccharin
But ain't sweet bout how I hold my gun
I got 99 problems but and a bitch ain't one - hit me!
99 problems but a bitch ain't one
If you havin girl problems I bad for you son
I got 99 problems, but a ain't one - hit me!
99 but a bitch ain't one
If you havin girl problems I feel bad for you son
I got 99 problems, but a bitch ain't one - hit me!
.. Whoo! Whoo! Uh, uh
Havin girl problems I feel bad for you son
I got 99 and a bitch ain't one, ha ha!
You crazy for this one Rick! It's your boy!
I got 99 problems, but a bitch ain't one
I got the Rap Patrol on the gat patrol
Foes that wanna make sure my casket's closed
Rap critics that say he's "Money, Cash, Hoes"
I'm from the hood stupid, what type of facts are those?
If you grew up with holes in zapatos
You'd celebrate the minute you was havin dough
I'm like fuck critics, you can kiss my whole asshole
If you don't like my lyrics, you can press forward
Got beef with radio if I don't play they show
they don't play my hits - well I don't give a shit, SO!
Rap mags try and use my black ass
So advertisers can give 'em more cash for ads, fuckers!
I don't what you take me as
Or understand the intelligence that Jay-Z has
I'm from, rags to riches, niggaz I ain't dumb
I got 99 problems, but a bitch ain't one - hit me!
99 problems but a bitch ain't one
If you havin girl problems I feel bad for you son
I got 99 problems, but a bitch ain't one - hit me!
The year is ninety-four, in my trunk is raw
In my rearview mirror is the motherfuckin law
Got two y'all, pull over the car or (hmm)
bounce on the Devil, put the pedal to the floor
And I ain't tryin to see no highway chase with Jay
Plus I got a few dollars, I can fight the case
So I, pull over to the of the road
I heard "Son do you what I'm stoppin you for?"
Cause I'm and I'm black and my hat's real low
Or do I look like a mindreader sir? I don't know
Am I under arrest or should I guess some mo'?
"Well you was fifty-five in a fifty-four;
license and registration and step out of the car -
are you carryin a weapon on you? I know a lot of you are"
I ain't steppin out of shit, all my paper's legit
"Well do you mind if I look the car a bit?"
Well my glove compartment is locked, so is the trunk in the back
And I know my rights, so you gon' need a warrant for that
"Aren't you sharp as a tack! You some type of lawyer or somethin, somebody or somethin"
Child I ain't passed the bar, but I know a little bit
Enough that you won't illegally search my shit
"Well we'll see how smart you are when the canine comes"
I got 99 problems, but a bitch ain't one - hit me!
99 problems but a bitch ain't one
If you havin girl problems I feel bad for you son
I got 99 problems, but a bitch ain't one - hit me!
99 problems but a bitch ain't one
If you havin girl problems I feel bad for you son
I got 99 problems, but a bitch ain't one - hit me!
Now once upon a time, not too long ago
A nigga like myself had to strongarm a hoe
This is not a hoe in the sense of havin a pussy
But a pussy havin no God damn sense, try an' me
I try to him, talk to the Lord
Pray for him, but some fools just to perform
You know the type, loud as a motorbike
But wouldn't bust a grape in a fruit fight
And only thing that's gon' happen is I'ma get to clappin and
he and his boys gon' be yappin to the Captain
And there I go, in the Kit-Kat again
Back through the system with the riff-raff again
Fiends on the floor, scratchin again
Paparazzis they cameras, snappin them
D.A. try to give a nigga shaft again
Half a mill' for bail cause I'm African
All because this fool was harassin them
Tryin to play the boy like he's saccharin
But ain't sweet bout how I hold my gun
I got 99 problems but and a bitch ain't one - hit me!
99 problems but a bitch ain't one
If you havin girl problems I bad for you son
I got 99 problems, but a ain't one - hit me!
99 but a bitch ain't one
If you havin girl problems I feel bad for you son
I got 99 problems, but a bitch ain't one - hit me!
.. Whoo! Whoo! Uh, uh
Havin girl problems I feel bad for you son
I got 99 and a bitch ain't one, ha ha!
You crazy for this one Rick! It's your boy!
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