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 your 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 fast 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 know what you take me as

Or understand the intelligence that Jay-Z has

I'm from rags to riches, niggas; 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 '94, in my trunk is raw

In my rearview mirror is the motherfuckin' law

Got two choices, 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 Jake

Plus I got a few dollars; I can fight the case

So I pull over to the side of the road

I heard, "Son, do you know what I'm stoppin' you for?"

Cause I'm young and I'm black and my hat's real low

Do I look like a mind reader, sir? I don't know

Am I under arrest or should I guess some mo'?"

"Well, you was doin' fifty-five in a fifty-four" (uh-huh)

"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 around the car a little 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" (ha-ha)

"Aren't you sharp as a tack?

You some type of lawyer or somethin', somebody important 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

Ah-ah

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 goddamn sense; try and push me

I try to ignore him, talk to the Lord

Pray for him, but some fools just love 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, trapped in the kit-kat again

Back through the system with the riff-raff again

Fiends on the floor, scratchin' again

Paparazzis with 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 saccharine

But ain't nuttin sweet, 'bout how I hold my gun

I got 99 problems; bein' 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

(Gosh!)

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

Whoo

Whoo

Uh, uh

Havin' girl problems? I feel bad for you, son

I got 99 problems, and a bitch ain't one

Ha-ha

You crazy for this one, Rick

This is your boy!