1,2,3 Songtext
1.. 2.. 3.. thousand problems1.. 2.. 3.. thousand problems(problems, who's got problemsshe's got problems, got problemsthree thousand problems, got problems)It's a cool summer nightMy .44's on my waist gotta half a stick of dynamiteGot some beef wit some niggaz across townKeep my man to the groundI gotta shut it down, they pull up on my blockI'm in my little brown hooptieSo they guess I want the white rockThey walk close towards my rideSurprise motherfucker it's a handful of1.. 2.. 3.. thousand problem(I got.. problems, three thousand problems)I put two to his headI jumped on the southern state then I'm rushin out to HempsteadOne down and one to goI heard the next nigga's on and he's gotten a ball of doughI kick in the nigga's doorI sat the nigga in the door wit my nickel played fo'-fo'And word up that shit is softThe way this nigga hit the floor when the Freaky got rawSome bitch tried to burst but I shot her in the backBack! Aiyyo Money where your stash at?He took me back inside to this roomBeside the safe full a G's he had mad bags of weeds1.. 2.. 3.. thousand problems(Problems, I I got problems)A lot to doI call up the underground let me speak to that nigga LuHe said, "Taliq, whats up my man?"I got this nigga locked down wit my joint to his gunAnd word up he got an mail pressAiyyo Money what's this address?1245 Boulevard Queens, and and tell my man they try to caravanUnderstand I'm on a missionAnd just be nice to pack some extra ammunitionand get some Phillies from the storeAnd park the van on the corner and you're comin through the side door1.. 2.. 3.. thousand problems(I got problems, we got problems)They get robbed they wanna goAand we don't want trouble, I told Lou to move the chairsAiyyo Cheeks, help met ake this damn bitch down the stairsI come back up for the sessionMoney still tied the fuck up confessinI blow some smoke into his eyes, here niggatake two more puff before you dieYo, I stood up, about-faced himAnd yo Lost Boyz waste himand yo Queens waste him, and yo Southside waste him1..2..3.. thousand problems(Who got problemsPretty Lou and the whole motherfuckin worldI got problems)It's 3 o'clock in the mornShit is on motherfuckers shit is onYeah yeah, I gotta get this nigga ShawnI'm drivin in a stolen car wit no motherfuckin plates onI heard Shawn got crazy endsBut before I do this thing I go and pick up my best friendsA forty ounce and lead feels rightI got to see the boy hillsideUnderstand now he's in courtI roll all my windows down pull my shit on the cornerbut I still bein sneaky(What's your name?) Cause I'm freaky Taliq, I'm freaky TaliqBut right now I got beef wit this nigga named ShawnShit is on word is bond money is goneHe's wit his bitch in bed (ah ah)I pull out my .44, and I don't wanna do his headCause this shit is too easy (even though)Even though he can go in one squeeze G, it's it's it's crazyMr.B's L-B's, a people.. 1.. 2.. 3.. 3.. thousand problems1.. 2.. 3.. thousand problems