1, 2, 3

Get Talib on the phone

(Beep him, beep him)

Yo, ayo, what's goin' on man?

What y'all **** doin' man?

Beef man? Come on, what you talkin' 'bout them shits man?

Yo, I'm tryin' to just chill man, understand me?

I'm tryin' to get my shit together man

I got a little man kid, you know what I'm sayin'?

I got my little brothers to take care of man

My moms just passed away and shit, you understand me man?

I'm not even tryin' to hear that beefin' shit no more man

If **** want it we can bring it, you know what I'm sayin'?

But if not just chill man, word up

I don't need shit

Mad **** think they got problems

Dumb funny

Dumb fuckin' funny

You got problems ****?

I got fuckin' problems ****

The LB's got problems, you understand?

(Ten years man, doin' a bid)

It's a lotta **** out there

That ain't representin' the right way man

And that's enough fuckin' problems right there man

And this how LB's is doin' 94 kid

One, two, three thousand problems

One, two, three thousand problems

Problems, Lou got problems

Cheeks got problems, got problems, 3000 problems(one, two, three thousand problems)

Got problems

One, two, three thousand problems

It's a cool summer night

My 44's on my waist, got a half a stick of dynamite

Got some beef with some **** across town

Beat my man to the ground, I gotta shut 'em down

They roll up on my block

I'm in my little brown oldie, so they guess I want the white rock

They walk close towards my ride (Ayo)

Surprise motherfucker, it's a hit from the Southside

One, two, three thousand problems

One, two, three thousand problems

I went two to his head

I jumped on the Southern State then I busted out the Hempstead

One down and one to go

I heard the next ****'s home and he's countin' up all the dough

I kick in the ****'s door

I slapped the **** in the jaw with my nickel plated 44

And word up, y'all shoulda saw

The way this **** hit the floor when the freaky got raw

Some bitch tried to burst, but I shot her in the back

(Ayo, money, where your stash at?)

He took me back inside this room

Beside the safe full of G's, he had mad bags of booms

[Chorus: Lil' Fame, (Talib Kweli)

One, two, three thousand problems

One, two, three thousand problems

One, two, three thousand problems

One, two, three thousand problems

What am I to do?

I call up the underground, let me speak to that **** Lou

He said, "Talib, what's up my man?"

I got this **** locked down with my joint to his gut

And word up, he got a mad rep

Ayo, money, what's his address?

"1245 Boulevard Quicksand"

And tell my man to drive the Caravan

Understand I'm on a mission

And just be nice to pack some extra ammunition

And get some Phillies from the store

Yo, park the van on the corner and yo

I'm comin' through the side door

One, two, three thousand problems

One, two, three thousand problems

One, two, three thousand problems

One, two, three thousand problems

They arrived there on the double

Money beggin' and repeatin' that he don't want trouble

I told my Lou to move the chairs

Ayo G, help me take this damn bitch down the stairs

I come back up for a session

Money still tied the fuck up confessin'

I blow some smoke into his eyes

Here ****, take two more pulls before you die

I stood up, about faced him

Ayo, Lost Boyz waste him

Ayo, Queensboro waste him

Ayo, Southside waste him

One, two, three thousand problems

One, two, three thousand problems

One, two, three thousand problems

One, two, three thousand problems

It's three o'clock in the mornin'

Shit is on, motherfucker, shit is on

I gotta get this **** Shawn

I'm drivin' in this stolen car with no motherfuckin' license

I heard Shawn got crazy ends

But before I do this hit I go and pick up my best friend

A 40 ounce and let the feels ride

I got this hit up on Hillside

Understand that he's a goner

I roll all my windows down, park my shit on the corner

But I'm still bein' sneaky, 'cause I'm freaky Talib

I'm freaky Talib

But right now I got beef with this **** named Shawn

Shit is on, word is bond, money is gone

He's with his bitch in bed

I pull out my 44 but I don't put it to his head

'Cause this shit is too easy

Even though he can go with what's freezy

It's crazy mysteries, LB's'll be the one to solve 'em

One, two, three, three thousand problems

One, two, three thousand problems

Ayo, word to my mother

It's all about keepin' it real on the streets, you understand?

You dig where the fuck I'm comin' from?

Ayo, it's all about the game, see?

Wine, dine, the whole nine

Champagne, cocaine, earrings, the whole shabbang

Ayo, ayo, Lost Boyz, we out guys, chill