If you having girl problems I feel bad for you son
I got 99 problems but a bitch aint one
Ive got the Rap Patrol on the gat patrol
Foes that wanna make sure my caskets closed
Rap critics that say hes Money, Cash, Hoes
Im from the hood stupid, what type of facts are those
If you grew up with holes in your zapatos
Youd celebrate the minute you was having dough
Im like fuck critics, you can kiss my whole asshole
If you dont like my lyrics, you can press fast forward
Got beef with radio if I dont play they show
They dont play my hits, well I dont give a shit, so
Rap mags try and use my black ass
So advertisers can give em more cash for ads, fuckers
Uhh uhh
Diamonds on my neck, chrome drop-top
Chillin on the scene, smokin pounds of green
Oooh-wee, you see, the ugliest
Money-hungriest, Brooklyn Loch Ness
Nine millimeter cock test, wan fi test?
And the winner is...
Yall niggas know the rules
I blast on niggas so --
-- my fist never bruise
Land-still-cruise, Frank White paid his dues
Ask whos the raw, bet they say Poppa very
Look forward to me like commissary
All of a sudden, now every-body Big Willie
Done did it, come widdit, get yo head splitted
Or get your neck slitted, admit it, you overdid it
Your shit it, just aint got that LOUD
Gold tooth shine like TA-DOW!
Biggie Smalls the illest and how, phrase raise your eyebrow
By now you figure, he talkin bout that nigga
But your weak-ass assumptions, lead led to dumpin
IV to pump-in, youre feeling something
Catch my drift, or catch my four-fifth lift
At least six inches, above project fences
Turn meat to minces, jumps turn to flinches
When I rain I drenches, cleared your park benches 
Missed you by pinches your talk is senseless 
Actor needs chiropractor for cracked jaw
Yes I rocked, you tried to box 
Dangerous youre not I gets down 
Twist your body {singing} round and round, upside down
Cmon, yo, throw your hands, cmon
Bitch grab your tits, cmon
Let me know you in the spot
Bump your fists, cmon
Thugs tote yo shit
We bout to get mo rich, cmon
Lets blow the club, cmon
Fuck the place up, cmon
Shake yo nasty ass
And make it swing all around, cmon
Yo, make this money
Throw yo loot on the ground, cmon
Bounce in your whips, cmon
Bitch lick yo lips, cmon
Dangerous MCs
My nigga this be the shit, cmon
Dangerous MCs
My nigga this be the shit, cmon
I dont know what you take me as
Or understand the intelligence that Jay-Z has
Im from rags to riches, niggas I aint dumb
I got 99 problems, but a bitch aint one, hit me
Beat Fades Out
Westsiiiiddee! Haha
Top Dogg, bite em all
Nigga burn the shit up
D-P-G-C my nigga turn that shit up
C-P-T, L-B-C
Yeah we hooking back up
And when they bang this in the club baby you got to get up
Thug niggas drug dealers yeah they giving it up
Lowlife, yo life
Boy we living it up
Taking chances while we dancing in the party for sure
Slip my ho a forty-fo and she got in the back do
Bitches looking at me strange but you know I dont care
Step up in this motherfucker just a-swanging my hair
Bitch quit talking, Crip walk, stay down with the set
Take a bullet with some dick and take this dope from this jet
Out of town, put it down for the Father of Rap
And if yo ass get cracked, bitch shut yo trap
Come back, get back, thats the part of success
If you believe in the S youll be relieving your stress
All my niggas on the East Side, throw up your guns
All my niggas on the West Side, throw up your guns
All my niggas from the East Side, throw up your guns
All my niggas from the West Side, throw your guns up
Niggas from the East Side, throw up your guns
All my niggas from the West Side, throw your guns up
All my niggas from the East Side, throw up your guns
All my niggas from the West Side, throw your guns up
Niggas from the West Side, throw up your guns
All niggas from the East Side, throw up your guns
All my niggas from the West Side, throw up your guns
All my niggas from the East Side, throw your guns up
Ha ha ha, yeah nigga, Outlawz yeah, Thug Life
Ha ha ha ha ha, yeah, energy makes plenty of enemies, you feel me?
Throw your guns up!!
 Aint got nothing to do with Old School
 New School, Dirty South
 West Coast, East Coast, this about us
 This our thing, you know what Im saying
 This came from the gut, from the blood
 From the soul, right here, man
 This is our thing, man