1.. 2.. 3.. thousand problems 
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