text: 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