1, 2, 3

Lyrics

[Intro] 1 to the motherfuckin 2 to the motherfuckin 3 [Hook] x4 1,2,3 points I gotta get across 1 don't 2 make me 3 go off [Verse 1] [Shawn Jay] We came up from the bottom to the top (top) Started wit the rocks Used to sell 'em to the fiends Now I got 'em in the watch. (whoa) Two years off the scene, heard enough of ya fuckin' trash We returned now to make you suffer like succotash Run up and the pump will blast My niggas is dopin I'm the film in the camera nigga, picture me rollin' Picture me blowin', trees chiefin' purple daily Weed – no seeds – call it Virgin Mary Chevy, they say we broke up (Chevy: Oh yeah?) But we do shows and split ends like blow dried hair Hold up, Joe stop the song, (what?) Field Mob the answer to the question, "What if BIG & Pac woulda got along?" Put us on whoever song, fast, slow, no facade Getcha Bible, check the credits, Shawn go slow for God With that said, I been blessed, oh man The chain red like a caffeine-free Coke can So, damn the critics; y'all really fake We got hotter 16s than that R. Kelly tape Make cheddar when I grab the mic See when the Mob in town Hoes go out in bad weather like a satellite Never have to ask 'em twice, do it for the fuck of it Anything, pop a pill, drink a lil, suck a dick Who you with, fuck ya click, stay in ya place Charlie Murphy what did the five fingers say to the face? SLAP! **[Hook] x4** 1,2,3 points I gotta get across 1 don't 2 make me 3 go off **[Verse 2] [Chevy P aka Smoke]** I swear to God you never heard me spit it this way I'm warning ya I'm finna snap like turtle lips in a lake I wrap more than a Egyptian coroner, ya rhymes are boring us Listening to you is like watching wet paint dry Ya lyrics I bet they taste sweet Stop spittin them kit-kat candy bars and give me a break please Start writin' ya rhymes yaself; As a matter of fact, here's a mirror and a map – go and find yaself Cause you been fake You frontin' like you did time in the state pen But really was a nerd at Penn State Cut the bullshit, you're not a hustler Y'all remind me of where I rent my DVDs at – Y'all some Blockbusters Confessin like Usher, soft as baby food Fixin to get us off the block like star 82 Mad, cause I'm comin up and you ain't And I'm buyin stuff that you can't I ain't 50 Cent, but I got bucks in the bank And I got a million dollar dick bitch Wood worth a lot of cash If I fuck her in the butt, she have money out her ass Claimin' you pimpin' but ain't got one bitch The only hoes you got is the one you water your lawn with To you hoes that fuck for fun, and the ones that fuck for fetti If you ain't finna fuck Shawn, then you ain't finna fuck Chevy To The Source Like a groupie in love with Jordan Jackson, Vick Ervin, and Tyson I want 5 mics man DAMN! [Hook] x4 1,2,3 points I gotta get across 1 don't 2 make me 3 go off {*music to fade*}