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1, 2, 3 lyrics
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1.. 2.. 3.. thousand problems (problems, who’s got problems She’s got problems, got problems Three thousand problems, got problems) It’s a cool summer night My .44’s on my waist gotta half a stick of dynamite Got some beef wit some niggaz across town Keep my man to the ground I gotta shut it down, they pull up on my block I’m in my little brown hooptie So they guess I want the white rock They walk close towards my ride Surprise motherfucker it’s a handful of 1.. 2.. 3.. thousand problem (I got.. problems, three thousand problems) I put two to his head I jumped on the southern state then I’m rushin out to hempstead One down and one to go I heard the next nigga’s on and he’s gotten a ball of dough I kick in the nigga’s door I sat the nigga in the door wit my nickel plated fo’-fo’ And word up that shit is soft The way this nigga hit the floor when the freaky got raw Some bitch tried to burst but I shot her in the back Back! aiyyo money where your stash at? He took me back inside to this room Beside the safe full a g’s he had mad bags of weeds 1.. 2.. 3.. thousand problems (problems, I i got problems) A lot to do I call up the underground let me speak to that nigga lu He said, taliq, what’s up my man? I got this nigga locked down wit my joint to his gun And word up he got an mail press Aiyyo money what’s this address? 1245 boulevard queens, and and tell my man they try to caravan Understand I’m on a mission And just be nice to pack some extra ammunition And get some phillies from the store And park the van on the corner and you’re comin through the side door 1.. 2.. 3.. thousand problems (I got problems, we got problems) They get robbed they wanna go Aand we don’t want trouble, I told lou to move the chairs Aiyyo cheeks, help me take this damn bitch down the stairs I come back up for the session Money still tied the fuck up confessin I blow some smoke into his eyes, here nigga Take two more puff before you die Yo, I stood up, about-faced him And yo lost boyz waste him And yo queens waste him, and yo southside waste him 1..2..3.. thousand problems (who got problems Pretty lou and the whole motherfuckin world I got problems) It’s 3 o’clock in the morn Shit is on motherfuckers shit is on Yeah yeah, I gotta get this nigga shawn I’m drivin in a stolen car wit no motherfuckin plates on I heard shawn got crazy ends But before I do this thing I go and pick up my best friends A forty ounce and lead feels right I got to see the boy hillside Understand now he’s in court I roll all my windows down pull my shit on the corner But I still bein sneaky (what’s your name? ) cause I’m freaky taliq, I’m freaky taliq But right now I got beef wit this nigga named shawn Shit is on word is bond money is gone He’s wit his bitch in bed (ah ah) I pull out my .44, and I don’t wanna do his head Cause this shit is too easy (even though) Even though he can go in one squeeze g, it’s it’s it’s crazy Mr.b’s l-b’s, a people.. 1.. 2.. 3.. 3.. thousand problems 1.. 2.. 3.. thousand problems  More Lost Boyz Song Lyrics
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