Courtney Love

99 Problems

Courtney Love

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99 Problems

	  		


Em                         G 
Got the rock patrol on the gat patrol 

D 
Foes that wanna make sure my casket's closed 

Em                       G 
Critics are saying he's "money, cash, hoes, 

D 
"From the hood, stupid, what types of facts are those?" 

Em                                G 
If you grew up with holes in your Zapatos 

D 
You'd celebrate the minute you was havin' dough 

Em                                  G 
I'm like "Fuck you critics, kiss my whole asshole" 

D 
If you don't like my lyrics you can press fast-forward 

Em                                  G 
I've got beef with radio if I don't play their show 

D 
They don't play my hits, but I don't give a shit, so 

Em                   G 
Rap mags try and use my black ass  

D 
So advertisers can give 'em more cash for ads 

Em                    G 
I don't know what you take me as 

D 
Or understand the intelligence Jay-Z has 

Em                               G 
I'm from rags to riches, nigger, I ain't dumb 

D 
I got ninety nine problems and a bitch ain't one 


Em                               G 
I got ninety nine problems but a bitch ain't one 

D 
If you're having girl problems, I feel bad for you son 


Em                               G 
I got ninety nine problems but a bitch ain't one 


Em                       G 
Once upon a time not too long ago 

D 
A nigger like myself had to strong arm a ho 

Em                               G 
This is not a ho in the sense of havin' a pussy 

D 
But a pussy having no goddamn sense, try and push me 

Em                    G 
I tried to ignore it, pray to the lord  

D 
Pray for him, cause some fools love to perform 

Em                           G 
You know the type, loud as a motorbike 

D 
But wouldn't bust a grape in a fruit fight 

Em                              G 
And the only thing that's gonna happen 

D 
Is that I'm gonna get to clappin' 


Em                       G 
He and his boys gonna be yappin' to the captain 

D 
And there I go trapped in the Kit Kat again 

Em                               G    
Back through the system with the riff raff again 

D 
Fiends on the floor, scratching again 

Em                             G 
Paparazzis with their cameras, snapping at them 

D 
D.A. tried to give a nigga a shaft again 

Em                       G 
A million for bail cause I'm African 

D 
All because the fools harassin' 

Em                            G 
Try to play the boy like he's saccharin 

D 
But ain't nothing sweet 'bout how I hold my gun 


Em                              G       D 
Ain't nothing sweet 'bout how I hold my gun 

Em                              G       D 
Ain't nothing sweet 'bout how I hold my gun 

Em                              G       D 
Ain't nothing sweet 'bout how I hold my gun 

Em                              G       D 
Ain't nothing sweet 'bout how I hold my gun 

Em                        G       D 
Nothing sweet 'bout how I hold my gun 

Em                              G       D 
Ain't nothing sweet 'bout how I hold my gun 

Em  
I got a ninety nine problems 

            G     D     Em 
But being a bitch ain't one 
		  

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See also:

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