If you're havin' black problems I feel bad for you son
I got 99 problems but whinin' ain't one

[Verse One]
Got bills that'll take forever to pay
Can't worry about what some critics say
I don't have millions that I can throw away
Maybe if you grew up respecting each race
You'd understand you have no reason to complain
I'm like f*** you Jay, stop livin' in the past
If you don't like bein' black you can kiss my albino ass
Got milk? Of course you do, 'cause you're havin' a cow
They don't play your rap 'cause you don't know how
So what if your name's being thrown about
You should be happy it's actually getting out
Of course you don't know what we take you as
You don't even know what intelligence is
Sure you've made it from rags to riches son
But talkin' the way you do just proves you're dumb

[Chorus]
99 Problems but whinin' ain't one
If you havin' black problems I feel bad for you son
I got 99 problems but whinin' ain't one
Hit me

[Verse Two]
It's 2001 hangin' at the KKK
Sure you're against violence but stabbing's okay!
Now you got two choices, plead guilty or not
You say what the hell, let's give 'em both a shot
We know you ain't tryin' to see no highway chase
Just wanna see how your money can save your face
So you...plead guilty to some misdemeanors
And you get a slap on the wrist for your misbehavior
'Cause you're a black rapper who's got a lot of dough
Do I look like a mind reader Jay, I don't know
Have I hit it on the nail or should I guess some mo'?
Fifteen minutes late to your own courtroom show
But of course the judge and jury still let you go

Are you carryin' a weapon on you, I know a lot of you are
'Course I am, got knives in my pocket and guns in my car
Don't you know who I am sir, I'm a courtroom star
Remember when I got off on a weapons charge?
Got out free from a stabbing just by droppin' fifty large
Aren't you dumb as a doorknob, some kind of rapper or something?
Or someone who thinks they're good or something?
Yeah, I act like I'm God's greatest gift to this nation
But I ain't even got a proper education
My favorite thing to do is complain about Caucasians
Hit me

[Chorus X2]

[Verse Three]
Now once upon a time not too long ago
Your "nigga" self decided to take down a foe
So you stabbed him in the chest and stabbed him in the back
Then you blamed it on the guy in your problematic track
So you talked to the Lord, Well what did he say?
Did he say to use a five-inch knife that day?
I guess you're the type who's blind as a mole
Thinkin' you're all that matters in this world
You act the rappers' hero, boycotting the Grammy's
Now you say, hey, I'll take what you give me!

So here you go whinin' 'bout your hard knock life
Tellin' everyone you've seen nothin' but strife
It's all the same year after year
Well sorry Jay, I must've misplaced my tears
And get it right son, it was only fifty thousand
To get your ass out the system again
Stop bitchin' about your made-up problems
Write a better song when you actually got 'em
Don't wanna be black, call up Michael Jackson

[Chorus X3]

You're crazy for this one Shawn
Give it up son!