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Problems by J Cole (with Lyrics)

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Problems by J Cole (with Lyrics)- SUBSCRIBE i dont want to hear anyones shit about the title of the song if its problems, leave me alone or something else just enjoy it [Verse 1] 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 aint 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 [Verse 2] Hey, Dear Mr. Policeman Hey am I wrong, aint 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, its a trip, every nigga in this whip got a mothafuckin college degree [Verse 3] Yea, my middle finger to the law, bustin off, tryna touch the sky My teacher said, "Impossible", but I'mma fuckin try Plus how he gon' tell me, he dont 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 dont 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