J Cole Problems Lyrics
Problems by J. Cole
[Verse 1]
Dear Mrs. Bill Collector
I know you just doing your job
Don't mean to disrespect you
But we've been going through this thing since way back
I told you when I get the dough I would pay back
But I got problems baby yeah if you only knew
I got bigger problems baby, yeah, hey
So why you talking 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 little boy crying
And my grandmother dying
Could you please stop fucking with me
Listen here, I ain't looking for no tears
But my brother got a year
And my Momma keep smoking that shit
On top of that, I'm broke
Please put that in your notes
For the next one to call me up talking that shit
And then ahana...
[Verse 2]
Hey
Dear, Mr. Policeman
Ay am I wrong, ain't you suppose to keep the peace man?
I coulda swore that I was driving pretty peaceful
So why the hell is you pulling over me fo'?
Is it this black Mercedes?
Oh naw I get it, I get it, I get it
Or cause I'm Black, hmmm maybe?
Yeah, hey, tell me why my hands start sweating
And I hold my breath every time 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 niggas, drug dealers, it's a trip
Every nigga in this whip gotta motherfucking college degree
And then ahana... unh
[Verse 3]
Yeah, my middle finger to the law
I'm busting off, tryna touch the sky
My teacher said impossible but I'mma fucking try
Plus how he gon' tell me, he don't make the rules
There's niggas dying every day man we don't make the news
Instead they talking bout some thunderstorm, cyclones
Timmy got his bike stole
Top story: Tiger Woods be fucking all these White hoes
Anchorman stop snitching
Cut to commercial, he be texting all his side bitches
Hey my goodness, how ironic
On trial for possession of some chronic
My lawyer came to court, man he was higher than a comet
Hey your honor, is you kidding
How you sit above me
Are you perfect motherfucker
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 fucked up like us
At the end of the day you niggas just like us
You niggas just like us
Dear Mrs. Bill Collector
I know you just doing your job
Don't mean to disrespect you
But we've been going through this thing since way back
I told you when I get the dough I would pay back
But I got problems baby yeah if you only knew
I got bigger problems baby, yeah, hey
So why you talking 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 little boy crying
And my grandmother dying
Could you please stop fucking with me
Listen here, I ain't looking for no tears
But my brother got a year
And my Momma keep smoking that shit
On top of that, I'm broke
Please put that in your notes
For the next one to call me up talking that shit
And then ahana...
[Verse 2]
Hey
Dear, Mr. Policeman
Ay am I wrong, ain't you suppose to keep the peace man?
I coulda swore that I was driving pretty peaceful
So why the hell is you pulling over me fo'?
Is it this black Mercedes?
Oh naw I get it, I get it, I get it
Or cause I'm Black, hmmm maybe?
Yeah, hey, tell me why my hands start sweating
And I hold my breath every time 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 niggas, drug dealers, it's a trip
Every nigga in this whip gotta motherfucking college degree
And then ahana... unh
[Verse 3]
Yeah, my middle finger to the law
I'm busting off, tryna touch the sky
My teacher said impossible but I'mma fucking try
Plus how he gon' tell me, he don't make the rules
There's niggas dying every day man we don't make the news
Instead they talking bout some thunderstorm, cyclones
Timmy got his bike stole
Top story: Tiger Woods be fucking all these White hoes
Anchorman stop snitching
Cut to commercial, he be texting all his side bitches
Hey my goodness, how ironic
On trial for possession of some chronic
My lawyer came to court, man he was higher than a comet
Hey your honor, is you kidding
How you sit above me
Are you perfect motherfucker
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 fucked up like us
At the end of the day you niggas just like us
You niggas just like us