J. COLE - Problems lyrics

rate me

Yea, yea, yea, Dear Mrs. Bill Collector

I know ya just doing your job, don't mean to disrespect ya

But we've been going through this thang since way back

I told ya when I get the dough I would pay back

But I got problems babayy... yea, if you only knew

I got bigger problems babbayyy

So why ya talkin 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 lil boy crying,

And my grandmother dying, could you please stop fuckin with me?

Listen here, I ain't lookin 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

Hey, Dear Mr. Policeman

Hey am I wrong, ain't you suppose to keep the peace man?

I coulda swore I was driving pretty peaceful

So why the hell is you pullin over me fo'?

Is it this black Mercedez? (Oh now I get it, I get it, I get it)

Or cause I'm black? Hmmm, maybe

Hey, tell me why my hands start sweatin and I hold my breath everytime 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 got a mothafuckin college degree

Yea, my middle finger to the law, bustin off, tryna touch the sky

My teacher said, "Impossible", but I'm a fuckin try

Plus how he gon' tell me, he don't make the rules

There's niggas dying everyday, but we don't make the news

Instead they talkin bout some thunderstorm, cyclones

Timmy got his bike stole, top story, Tiger Woods "be fuckin all these white hoes"

Anchorman stop snitchin

Cut the commercial, he be texting all the side bitches, hey my goodness

How ironic, on trial for possession of some chronic

My lawyer came to court, man he was higher than the comet

Hey your honor, is you kidding? How you sit above me?

Are you perfect mothafucker, 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