1, 2, 3

[Intro/Hook: repeat 6X] 1, motherfuckin' 2, motherfuckin' 3 1, and here comes the 2 to the 3, and [Verse 1: Lakim Shabazz] Silly weak rappers are full of this Since I'm a Don I'm puttin' out a hit Cause I'm fired up, I'm tired of all the bullshit Flavor Unit, it's time to attack a 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 you, make you feel real sore Have that ass looking just like the spook who sat by the door Known to kill ducks, skills erupt You ask why? My reply is 'I don't give a fuck!' I'm a Panther, I love fresh meat After I kill you, I'm a leave your body across 110th Street My tactics are drastic and real fast I tie a rope to a truck and cold drag your 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 your pop, go straight back down ya throat Everyday all day this be the hard way Putting rappers out of commission even on an off day Flavor Unit rules G, we're taking rappers out 1 motherfucking 2 motherfucking 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 beat me? Wait a minute, hold the fuck up! If I was deaf, dumb, blind, stupid, lame Handicapped, crippled and "pussy" was my middle name You couldn't beat me slick, snap that neck like a Chick-O-Stick I know who'll getcha quick. (Who?) My dick! Tell me, is this 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 Leaves with a 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 limousine The rest of his body at a dump-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 3 Chorus (x4)