1 motherfuckin 2 motherfuckin 3 1 and here comes the 2 to the 3 and
Verse 1: Lakim Shabazz
rappers are full of this since I'm a Don I'm pullin out a hit cos I'm fired up I'm tired of all the bullshit Flavor Unit it's time to attack the prey So make way for hip hop's green beret Bring on the refills you see we feel the name of the brain game is kill or be killed I'm an expert, who will be the next jerk to try? Let me explain you got 8 million ways to die We torch and scorch ya, make ya feel real sore Have that ass lookin just like *?this boo-boo?* slipped the door Known to kill, dunk skills, e-rupt You ask why? My reply is 'I don't give a fuck!' I'm a Panther, I love fresh meat After I kill ya, I'ma leave ya body across 110th Street My tactics are drastic and real fast I tie one to a truck and go drag ya ass I'm more than a threat, I'm a problem To hell with cotton, watch out when I come to Harlem So don't whisper or make a sound or croak Shit ya prop, go straight back down ya throat Everyday all day this be the hard way Puttin rappers outta commission even on an off-day Flavor Unit rules G, we're takin rappers out 1 motherfuckin 2 motherfuckin 3
Chorus (x3)
Verse 2: Apache
Here comes trouble and it's all that, in fact contact You're next of kin, friend, follow the flow format While you slip, I grips so expect to get bruised Ask me if I give a fuck cos I ain't got shit to lose Fuck around, lay around and get stuck up You beatnit, wait a minute, hold the fuck up If I was deaf, dumb, blind, stupid, blame handicapped, crippled and "pussy" was my middle name you couldn't beat me slick, snap that neck like a Chico stick I know who beat'cha quick (who?), my grip *?Failin this?* to some type of tournament I cut ya fuckin head off and use it as a Christmas tree ornament Come and give me a test whoever claims to be the best He's with the 40-below footprint on his chest Fucked up, got stuck, go press your luck Both of his legs were found in back of a garbage truck Head found in the bar of a limosuine The rest of his body at a dove site in Queens Damn man, Mr. Handman, you like braggin Ya fucked up, made a wrong turn and entered the dragon I told you I'm out to stalk, Last nigga tried me, died G, felt my tomahawk Apache, that's me, I'm gettin rappers' ass 1 motherfuckin 2 motherfuckin 3
Chorus (x4)
Verse 3: Treach
You coulda been my main shit but you scrap and will wack, black The only thing I smoke witta pipe is an ass crack You challenge Treach, I'll seal you quick, you can't touch that I thought you did a triple cos you said "Aw, fuck that!" Diamond Hill how ya feel, *?hey Ben Hef?* Give me a hearin aid or two then I'm thru cos I'm that def That's how we all be, tighter than small leaves Club rappin all be, I'm wreckin on all 3 This drill means chill, Guard Ya Grill, trouble Is that your head or is your neck blowin a fuckin bubble? A-B-C, skip to the S-T U-V-W-X, fuck the Y-Z Brand new, Brand Nubian, Grand Puba-in Tape dem and cruise me then, if I'm wrong, sue me then Wait let me hear another tune, tune me in so I'm straight, if I hear "drop the bomb" I have to go Break this nig' for anytime or any day, as many rhymes are played Erase, forgive me not cos shit I'm hot, if I can get then you'll get got Au contraire mon frere this is all my hair I wouldn't cut it for the biggest butt-ocks out there Put on a tip or hittin hips, I'm more than quick I Grease my Lightnin', it's frightening how I get, a slick schooled, dark, cool Sagittarian Two types of marryin: very thick or very thin Naughty By Nature and the Flavor U-N-I-T 1 motherfuckin 2 motherfuckin 3Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
