1, 2, 3

One to the motherfuckin' two to the motherfuckin' three One, two, three points I gotta get across One don't two make me three go off One, two, three points I gotta get across One don't two make me three go off One, two, three points I gotta get across One don't two make me three go off One, two, three points I gotta get across One don't two make me three go off We came up from the bottom to the top started wit the rocks Used to sell 'em to the fiends now I got 'em in my watch 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'll blast my niggaz is dopin' I'm the film in the camera nigga picture me rollin' Picture me blowin' trees chiefin' purple daily Weeds no seeds call it Virgin Mary Chevy they say we broke up (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 and Pac woulda got along? Put us on whoever song fast slow no facade Getcha Bible check the credits Shawn go slow for God Wit 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 one6s than than 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 wit fuck ya click stay in ya place Charlie Murphy what did the five fingers say to the face? (Slap) One, two, three points I gotta get across One don't two make me three go off One, two, three points I gotta get across One don't two make me three go off One, two, three points I gotta get across One don't two make me three go off One, two, three points I gotta get across One don't two make me three go off I swear to God you never heard me spit it this way I'm warnin' ya I'm finna snap like turtle lips in a lake Wrap more than a Egyptian coroner ya rhymes are borin' us Listenin' to you is like watchin' 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 ya 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 8two 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 is the one you water ya lawn wit 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 One, two, three points I gotta get across One don't two make me three go off One, two, three points I gotta get across One don't two make me three go off One, two, three points I gotta get across One don't two make me three go off One, two, three points I gotta get across One don't two make me three go off