Lost Boyz

Lost Boyz - 1, 2, 3 lyrics

rate me

1.. 2.. 3.. thousand problems

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 south side

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

blap! 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 boom

1.. 2.. 3.. thousand problems

(Problems, I I got problems)

what am i to do

I call up the underground let me speak to that nigga Lu

He said, "Taliq, whats 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 quick sand, and tell my man to drive the caravan

Understand I'm on a mission

And just for extra bring 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

And we don't want trouble, I told Lou to move the chairs

Aiyyo Cheeks, help me take this dead 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 puffs before you die

Yo, I stood up,i bold faced him

A yo Lost Boyz waste him

a yo Queens board waste him, a 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 lights on

I heard Shawn got crazy ends

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

A forty ounce and lead feels right

I got to see the boy hillside

Understand that he a gonner

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 dun put it to 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

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