1.. 2.. 3.. thousand problems

 (problems  who's got problems
 she's got problems  got problems
 three thousand problems  got problems)

 It's a cool summer night
 My .44's on my waist gotta half a stick of dynamite
 Got some beef wit some niggaz across town
 Keep my man to the ground
 I gotta shut it down  they pull up on my block
 I'm in my little brown hooptie
 So they guess I want the white rock
 They walk close towards my ride
 Surprise motherfucker it's a handful of

 1.. 2.. 3.. thousand problem
 (I got.. problems, three thousand problems)

 I put two to his head
 I jumped on the southern state then I'm rushin out to Hempstead
 One down and one to go
 I heard the next nigga's on and he's gotten a ball of dough
 I kick in the nigga's door
 I sat the nigga in the door wit my nickel played fo'-fo'
 And word up that shit is soft
 The way this nigga hit the floor when the Freaky got raw
 Some bitch tried to burst but I shot her in the back
 Back! Aiyyo Money where your stash at?
 He took me back inside to this room
 Beside the safe full a G's he had mad bags of weeds

 1.. 2.. 3.. thousand problems
 (Problems, I I got problems)

 A lot to do
 I call up the underground let me speak to that nigga Lu
 He said, "Taliq, whats up my man?"
 I got this nigga locked down wit my joint to his gun
 And word up he got an mail press
 Aiyyo Money what's this address?
 1245 Boulevard Queens, and and tell my man they try to caravan
 Understand I'm on a mission
 And just be nice to pack some extra ammunition
 and get some Phillies from the store
 And park the van on the corner and you're comin through the side door

 1.. 2.. 3.. thousand problems
 (I got problems, we got problems)

 They get robbed they wanna go
 Aand we don't want trouble, I told Lou to move the chairs
 Aiyyo Cheeks, help me take this damn bitch down the stairs
 I come back up for the session
 Money still tied the fuck up confessin
 I blow some smoke into his eyes, here nigga
 take two more puff before you die
 Yo, I stood up, about-faced him
 And yo Lost Boyz waste him
 and yo Queens waste him, and yo Southside waste him

 1..2..3.. thousand problems
 (Who got problems
 Pretty Lou and the whole motherfuckin world
 I got problems)

 It's 3 o'clock in the morn
 Shit is on motherfuckers shit is on
 Yeah yeah, I gotta get this nigga Shawn
 I'm drivin in a stolen car wit no motherfuckin plates on
 I heard Shawn got crazy ends
 But before I do this thing I go and pick up my best friends
 A forty ounce and lead feels right
 I got to see the boy hillside
 Understand now he's in court
 I roll all my windows down pull my shit on the corner
 but I still bein sneaky
 (What's your name?) Cause I'm freaky Taliq, I'm freaky Taliq
 But right now I got beef wit this nigga named Shawn
 Shit is on word is bond money is gone
 He's wit his bitch in bed (ah ah)
 I pull out my .44, and I don't wanna do his head
 Cause this shit is too easy (even though)
 Even though he can go in one squeeze G, it's it's it's crazy
 Mr.B's L-B's, a people.. 1.. 2.. 3.. 3.. thousand problems
 1.. 2.. 3.. thousand problems