Jay-z - 99 Problems(Fall Out Boy RMX) lyrics

If you havin' girl problems, I feel bad for you, son I got 99 problems, but a b**h 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, "f** critics; you can kiss my whole a**hole 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 sh**, so Rap mags try and use my black a** So advertisers can give 'em more cash for ads, f**ers I don't know what you take me as Or understand the intelligence that Jay-Z has I'm from rags to riches, n***as; I ain't dumb I got 99 problems, but a b**h ain't one; hit me 99 problems, but a b**h ain't one If you havin' girl problems, I feel bad for you, son I got 99 problems, but a b**h ain't one; hit me The year is '94, in my trunk is raw In my rearview mirror is the motherf**in' 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 sh**; 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 pa**ed the bar, but I know a little bit Enough that you won't illegally search my sh**" "Well, we'll see how smart you are when the canine comes" I got 99 problems, but a b**h ain't one; hit me 99 problems, but a b**h ain't one If you havin' girl problems, I feel bad for you, son I got 99 problems, but a b**h ain't one; hit me Ah-ah 99 problems, but a b**h ain't one If you havin' girl problems, I feel bad for you, son I got 99 problems, but a b**h ain't one; hit me Now once upon a time, not too long ago A n***a like myself had to strongarm a hoe This is not a hoe in the sense of havin' a p**y But a p**y 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 n***a shaft again Half a mill' for bail cause I'm African All because this fool was hara**in' 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 b**h ain't one; hit me 99 problems, but a b**h ain't one If you havin' girl problems, I feel bad for you, son I got 99 problems, but a b**h ain't one; hit me (Gosh!) 99 problems, but a b**h ain't one If you havin' girl problems, I feel bad for you, son I got 99 problems, but a b**h ain't one; hit me Whoo Whoo Uh, uh Havin' girl problems? I feel bad for you, son I got 99 problems, and a b**h ain't one Ha-ha You crazy for this one, Rick This is your boy!