Artist/Band:
J. Cole
Lyrics for Song: Problems
Lyrics for Album: Other Songs - J. Cole
Yea
Da dum da dum da dum da dum
Da dum da dum da dum da dum da dum
Yeah
Uh mmm uh mmm
Hey hey hey
[Verse 1:]
Dear Mrs. Bill Collector
I know ya just doing your job, don't mean to disrespect ya
But we've been going through this thang since way back
I told ya when I get the dough I would pay back
But I got problems babayy
Yea, if you only knew, I got bigger problems babbayyy
Yeah, hey!
So why ya talkin about the money that I owe, like as if I didn't know man,
It don't mean nothing to me
Cause right now I got my lil boy crying, and my grandmother dying,
Could you please stop f*ckin with me?
Listen here, I ain't lookin for no tears, but my brother got a year,
And my momma keep smoking that sh*t
On top of that, I'm broke, please put that in your notes
For the next one to call me up talking that sh*t
And then I holler
Uh!
Yeah!
[Verse 2:]
Hey, Dear Mr. Policeman
Hey am I wrong, or ain't you suppose to keep the peace man?
I coulda swore that I was driving pretty peaceful
So why the hell is you pullin over me fo'?
Is it this black Mercedes?
(Oh now I get it, I get it, I get it, heh)
Or cause I'm black? Hmmm, maybe (haha)
Yeah, hey!
Tell me why my hands start sweatin
And I hold my breath everytime that you get behind me
I turn my music down, so you won't hear a sound,
Man I'm nervous like I got a couple pounds on me
You pulled me over, you frown on me,
With your flashlight, tell me what do you see
Thug n*ggas, drug dealers, it's a trip,
Every n*gga in this whip got a mothaf*ckin college degree
And then I'm like
Uh mmm
[Verse 3:]
Yea, my middle finger to the law, bustin off, tryna touch the sky
My teacher said, "Impossible", but I'm a f*ckin try
Plus how he gon' tell me, he don't make the rules
There's n*ggas dying everyday, man we don't make the news
Instead they talkin bout some thunderstorm,
cyclones, Timmy got his bike stole,
Top story, Tiger Woods "be f*ckin all these white hoes"
Anchorman stop snitchin
Cut the commercial, he be texting all the side b*tches,
Hey my goodness, how ironic,
On trial for possession of some chronic
My lawyer came to court, man he was higher than the comet
Hey your honor, is you kidding? How you sit above me?
Are you perfect mothaf*cker, how you finna judge me?
When you home you don't cuss, drink and puff like us
These cops is bad boys, baby just like Puff
They hate they jobs and they days be f*cked up like us
At the end of the day, you n*ggas just like us
Uh! You n*ggas just like us
Yeah haha!
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