Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song 1, 2, 3 (Acapella) , by - Alexander Marcus. Release date: 05.06.2008
Song language: English
1, 2, 3 (Acapella) |
| You on the circle line, what’s wrong? |
| Ain’t your yacht out yet |
| Ain’t you that Willie, Benz pushing, slash Melrose cat |
| Nigga please, in the Hills of Beverly, you find it’s heavenly |
| Slingin' dick to Pamela Anderson bitches daily |
| L.O.X., when we ball |
| It’s Pay-Per-View y’all |
| Straight movie |
| Flee in the Z3 while woozy |
| Now gentlemen, do we have to get into some gangsta shit |
| For me to get paid on my song, y’all just get sprayed |
| Esta mointo; |
| as a nail but on point though |
| I’ll blast up the loca |
| For skimming on my coca |
| L.O.X., in total control and power |
| And everything you see us with in videos be ours |
| You can’t afford it, so you playa hate I see your logic |
| My coat is $ 1500 keep your army in the closet |
| As long as L-O-X keeps giving you what you need |
| We gonna take it there nigga AS WE PROCEED |
| Chorus (Ma$e): 1, 2, 3, 4 (4X) |
| Verse Two: Jadakiss |
| Yo, you already know what I’m here for |
| Therefore, L-O-X be the niggas that I care for |
| Holding down this foundation, Mr. Jason |
| Bald head, baby faced and I stay laced and |
| When you pay good, you play good, stay good |
| I’ma get this money while you fake thugs stay hood |
| Why wouldn’t I be stacking franks |
| 15 in clip while you packing shanks |
| Iron swinger, hair triggers, Fed bidders |
| Real niggas, the lil' kids still dig us |
| Next time be careful who you bring drama to |
| Speaker phone in the Suburban with 6 monitors |
| Pad lock everything filled to the top |
| We ain’t gonna stop, we just gonna squeeze 'til you drop |
| Paniro, Luch, bounce in the coupe |
| With no trouble all my niggas bubble like goose |
| Or geese, Nautica fleece it ain’t nothing |
| But now I can drop 25 on the piece |
| Butta Nats do it with whoever, who you kidding? |
| Back to back like green on the other side of Clinton |
| Shock treatments for them cats who can’t freak it |
| We keep 'em dusted, that’s why they always try to leak it |
| But peep it, that weed shit, you can keep it |
| We trying to sell all the real units we can eat with |
| Verse Three: Styles Paniro |
| Fuck the cars and the clothes, sex and the bitch |
| Homies that got life and niggas that run thick |
| Like a pack of wolves with tools we all improve |
| Chance I can drown I ain’t jumping in the pool |
| I ain’t a fool, you fucking with the Guineas and the Mouls |
| When the money’s making me hot, I move where it’s cool |
| My pigment is just a figment |
| You never see my ghost, move through the L-O-X triangle pyramid |
| This is for them cats that’s like «who's the L.O.X.» |
| Better float up to Yonkers nigga choose a block |
| Got Arabics, Ricans, Jews and Wops |
| Drinking booze 'bout to drop, trying to lose the cops |
| Same shit, where you at say where you at |
| I got my first felony, holding my gat |
| And I been robbing cats, slinging my sacks |
| Styles P-A-N-I-R-O |
| BM Doub., see that thug, get that dough |
| We ain’t positive, but we ain’t negative |
| The cops got guns and they don’t like us where we live |
| Take notes, I’m smoking a roach, holding my toast |
| Giving my quotes, to the shorties living with dope |
| You think it ain’t real, until you’re caged in and you can’t get a feel |
| We keep the rage in cuz we never made a mil |
| So we blazin' all the faggots on the hill |
| Fuckin' niggas girls but they keep 'em on the pill |
| But dog wear your hat cuz the honey’s type ill |
| Everything is real |