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1, 2, 3

Artist:Lost Boyz  Album:Legal Drug Money 

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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 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

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