1, 2, 3

1, 2, 3 Lyrics

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 motherf**ker 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 played fo'-fo'

And word up that sh*t is soft

The way this nigga hit the floor when the Freaky got raw

Some b**ch 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, 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 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


1.. 2.. 3.. thousand problems

(I got problems, we got problems)


They get robbed they wanna go

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

Aiyyo Cheeks, help me take this damn b**ch down the stairs

I come back up for the session

Money still tied the f**k up confessin

I blow some smoke into his eyes, here nigga

take two more puff before you die

Yo, I stood up, about-faced him

And yo Lost Boyz waste him

and yo Queens waste him, and yo Southside waste him


1..2..3.. thousand problems

(Who got problems

Pretty Lou and the whole motherf**kin world

I got problems)


It's 3 o'clock in the morn

sh*t is on motherf**kers sh*t is on

Yeah yeah, I gotta get this nigga Shawn

I'm drivin in a stolen car wit no motherf**kin plates 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 sh*t 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

sh*t is on word is bond money is gone

He's wit his b**ch in bed (ah ah)

I pull out my .44, and I don't wanna do his head

Cause this sh*t 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