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