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The following lyric translation has been translated by Brian Kennedy and may or may not completely convey the original message of the song's artist. The song's original lyrics are in normal text, translations are in italics.

99 Problems

Artist: Jay-Z
Album: The Black Album

Translation

Jay-Z
If your havin' girl problems I feel bad for you son,
I got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one.
Child, contingent to your problems with those of the female sex is whether or not I sympathize with you. As for myself, my dilemmas reach one short of one hundred, however none of them involve a fine woman.

I got the rap patrol on the gat patrol,
Foes that wanna make sure my casket's closed.
My fellow constituents and colleagues are on full alert and keep their weapons close by. Enemies of mine who have made their goals clear, to ensure that I lie in a grave and that my funeral be closed casket.

Rap critics that say he's "Money Cash Hoes,"
I'm from the hood stupid what type of facts are those.
If you grew up with holes in your zapitos,
You'd celebrate the minute you was havin' dough.
Those who dedicate their lives to giving critique to rap/hip hop performers claim that I am only about monetary funds, paper currency to represent those funds, and promiscuous women. However they are not unaware that I once lived in a "project", per se, where my foot apparel often had holes in it. It is my hypothesis that if they had lived a childhood that paralleled mine they would also have reason to assemble with the intention of celebration.

I'm like fuck critics you can kiss my whole asshole,
If you don't like my lyrics you can press fast forward.
I openly express my discontent with these individuals, and claim that they can express themselves by osculating my rectum. You are not legally obligated to listen to my lyrical masterpieces, and if you do not enjoy them please feel free to skip them via the fast forward button.

Got beef with radio if I don't play they show,
They don't play my hits well I don't give a shit SO.
Rap mags try and use my black ass,
So advertisers can give 'em more cash for ads...fuckers.
I currently have dilemmas with the broadcast medium that is commonly known as the radio, because they do not air the song tracks that I feel are classics, however I do not feel a sense of responsibility to them. Periodical magazines that deal with rap and hip/hop music often attempt to use stories about me so that large companies will give them money to advertise within the issues. This is one of my many disagreements with today's multi-media corporations.

I don't know what you take me as,
or understand the intelligence that Jay-Z has.
It is unknown to me what your opinion of me is, and it is very clear that you completely underestimate the problem solving skills and general knowledge that I hold.

I'm from rags to riches nigga I ain't dumb,
I got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one.
Hit me.
I traveled a path from that of poverty to one of immense wealth, which can clearly convict all that I do not lack intelligence. My dilemmas reach one short of one hundred, however none of them involve a fine woman. Please contact me.

[Chorus]
99 Problems but a bitch ain't one.
If you having girl problems I feel bad for you son,
I got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one.
Hit me.
Child, contingent to your problems with those of the female sex is whether or not I sympathize with you. As for myself, my dilemmas reach one short of one hundred, however none of them involve a fine woman. Once again, please attempt to contact me.

Jay-Z
The year is '94 and in my trunk is raw
In my rear view mirror is the mother fuckin' law
I got two choices y'all pull over the car or
Bounce on the devil put the pedal to the floor
Having a flashback to the year of 1994, I can recall a time when I was being followed by a police officer on patrol while drugs were in my trunk. Upon recognition of my situation I realized that I could have either A.) Pulled over and allowed the officer to enforce the law or B.) Use my foot to depress the gas pedal on my automobile as far down as possible, and effectively attempt to avert conflict with the law.

Now I ain't tryin' to see no highway chase with Jake,
Plus I got a few dollars I can fight the case.
So I...pull over to the side of the road.
I decided to choose option A (as previously defined) due to my unwillingness to take part in a high speed chase on an interstate highway. I also came to realize that my monetary funds are sufficient enough to hire a decent attorney at law, which would allow me to properly defend myself through the courts system.

And I heard "Son do you know why I'm stoppin' you for?"
Cause I'm young and I'm black and my hats real low.
Do I look like a mind reader sir, I don't know,
Am I under arrest or should I guess some mo?
After I found a safe and proper location to pull over, the officer questioned me as to whether or not I was aware of the nature of his justification for using his force and authority to stop me. My reply was that it was quite probable that due to my youth and African descent, as well as my method in which I wear my baseball cap. I questioned him as to whether or not I had an appearance to someone who is clairvoyant, and then exercised my constitutional right as promised to me by the bill of rights as to question whether or not I was placed under arrest.

"Well you was doin' fifty five in a fifty four,"
"License and registration and step out of the car."
"Are you carryin' a weapon on you I know a lot of you are,"
I ain't steppin' out of shit all my papers legit.
The officer replied that I was in violation of the regulated speed limit of fifty four miles per hour by driving a speed of fifty five miles per hour. He then asked me to present to him my state driver's license and registration, and requested that I exit my vehicle. The officer then showed a gross example of racial profiling by questioning as to whether or not i was in possession of a deadly weapon, due to the common knowledge based on statistics and history that many others of my description of young and of African descent also carried weapons. I refused to exit my vehicle, and protested that my paperwork in reference to my vehicle is absolutely legitimate and legal.

"Do you mind if I look round the car a little bit?"
Well my glove compartment is locked so is the trunk and the back,
And I know my rights so you gon' need a warrant for that.
The officer began to become agitated and requested that I allow him to examine my automobile. I informed him that my interior glove compartment as well as my trunk space was sealed via a lock. I also made this officer aware that I am knowledgeable of my constitutional rights as granted to me by the 4th Amendment to the Constitution of the United States of America, which can be summarized as saying that the government may not carry out unreasonable searches and seizures without being properly granted express permission via a search warrant.

"Aren't you sharp as a tack are some type of lawyer or something?"
"Or somebody important or somethin'?"
Nah I ain't pass the bar but I know a little bit,
Enough that you won't illegally search my shit.
"Well see how smart you are when the K-9's come."
The officer was quite impressed of my knowledge of constitutional law, and queried me as to whether or not I had made that my profession. I informed him that I was unable to pass the state's bar exam, which would allow me to practice law, but that nevertheless I was informed enough as to know of my rights against illegal searches and seizures. The officer then smirked that my intelligence would be tested as soon as the K-9 police units, notorious for using canines to search for illegal drugs and substances, arrived to the scene.

I got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one,
Hit me.
This is an example of one of my dilemmas which reaches one short of one hundred, however none of them involve a fine woman. Once again, please attempt to contact me.

[Chorus] (2x)

Now once upon a time not too long ago,
A nigga like myself had to strong arm a ho.
This is not a ho in the sense of havin' a pussy,
But a pussy havin' no God Damn sense, try and push me.
Allow me to divulge you into another story in which a fine young man who is similar to myself was forced to act violently towards a ho. Please be aware that I do not mean ho in the sense of being a promiscuous woman, as society so often does. However I call the young gent a ho in order to insult him by comparing him to one who lacks the common sense demonstrated by his attempts to physically manhandle myself.

I tried to ignore him and talk to the Lord,
Pray for him, cause some fools just love to perform.
You know the type loud as a motor bike,
But wouldn't bust a grape in a fruit fight.
At first my attempt was to omit this young gent and speak with my Lord and creator through prayer. I often spoke to Jehovah about this gent because I am aware that many persons enjoy a very strong passion of performance, having an audible volume that rivals an automobile in the form of a motorcycle. This gent speaks of his abilities to quarrel, however would be unable to squash a small fruit in a fight involving fruit.

The only thing that's gonna happen is I'mma get to clappin',
He and his boys gon' be yappin' to the captain.
And there I go trapped in the kit kat again,
Back through the system with the riff raff again.
If i were to act upon my disdain with this gent, the only events that would take place would be that his posse would report my violent actions to those in authority, and I would end up being placed through the legal system once more. This would inevitably force me to associate myself with the most despicable and socially unacceptable organisms that live.

Fiends on the floor scratchin' again,
Paparazzi with they cameras snappin' them.
D.A. tried to give the nigga the shaft again,
Half-a-mil for bail cause I'm African.
All chaos will break loose when companions of mine attempt to get things from me while on the floor, and independent photographers who follow celebrities snap still photos of the events. The District Attorney will attempt to shot end me again, as the price for my bail bond will equal an amount of exactly half a million dollars, of $500,000 dollars America, due to the fact of my African descent.

All because this fool was harassin' them,
Tryin' to play the boy like he's saccarin.
But ain't nothin' sweet 'bout how I hold my gun,
I got 99 problems but this bitch ain't one.
Hit me.
The cause of all of these events could easily be traced back to the individual attempting to treat me as if I were fearful of him. However there is nothing delectable in the manner of which I hold my weapon. My dilemmas reach one short of one hundred, however none of them involve a fine woman. Once again, please attempt to contact me.

[Chorus] (2x)

You're crazy for this one Rick,
It's your boy.
I declare that Rick is mentally insane, and he is my father.

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