Title : 1, 2, 3
Artist : Lost Boyz
Album : Legal Drug Money

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[Chorus x4]:
1...2...3..thousand problems

(Problems, who's got problems
She's got problems, got problems
Three thousand problems, got problems)

[Freaky Tah]:
It's a cool summer night
My fo' fo's on my waist gotta half a stick of dynamite
Got some beef with some niggas 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 dynamite

[Chorus]

(I got...problems, three thousand problems)

[Freaky Tah]:
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 countin' up all the dough
I kick in the nigga's door
I sat the nigga in the door with 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)
Ay yo, Money where your stash at?
He took me back inside to this room
Beside the safe full of G's he had mad bags of BOOM

[Chorus]

(Problems, I I got problems)

[Freaky Tah]:
A lot to do
I called up the Underground, let me speak to that nigga Lou
He said, "Taliq, what's up my man?"
I got this nigga locked down with my joing to his head
And word up he got a mail press
Ay yo, Money what's this address?
1-2-45 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

[Chorus]

(I got problems, we got problems)

[Freaky Tah]:
They arrived on the double
Money beggin' and repeatin' that he don't want trouble
I told Raul to move the chairs
Ay yo Cheeks, help me take this damn bitch down the stairs
I come back up for the session
Money still tied the fuck up confession
I blow some smoke into his eyes, here nigga
Take two more puff before you die
Yo, I stood up, about-faced him
Ay yo Lost Boyz waste him
Ay yo Queens boys waste him, ay yo Southside waste him

[Chorus]

(Who got problems, Pretty Lou and the whole fuckin' world, I got problems)

[Freaky Tah]:
It's three o' clock in the morn'
Shit is on motherfucker, shit is on (yeah, yeah)
I gott get this nigga Shawn
I'm drivin' in a stolen car with no motherfuckin' lights 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 with this nigga named Shawn
Shit is on word is bond money is gone
He's with his bitch in bed
I pull out my fo' fo' 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, LB's, to be the one it's all good 2, 3, 3, thousand problems

[Chorus]

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