1, 2, 3 Lyrics - Light Poles And Pine Trees - Field Mob

1 to the motherfuckin' 2 to the motherfuckin' 3 

1, 2, 3 points I gotta get across 

1 don't 2 make me 3 go off 

1, 2, 3 points I gotta get across 

1 don't 2 make me 3 go off 

1, 2, 3 points I gotta get across 

1 don't 2 make me 3 go off 

1, 2, 3 points I gotta get across 

1 don't 2 make me 3 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 16s 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) 

1, 2, 3 points I gotta get across 

1 don't 2 make me 3 go off 

1, 2, 3 points I gotta get across 

1 don't 2 make me 3 go off 

1, 2, 3 points I gotta get across 

1 don't 2 make me 3 go off 

1, 2, 3 points I gotta get across 

1 don't 2 make me 3 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 82 

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 

1, 2, 3 points I gotta get across 

1 don't 2 make me 3 go off 

1, 2, 3 points I gotta get across 

1 don't 2 make me 3 go off 

1, 2, 3 points I gotta get across 

1 don't 2 make me 3 go off 

1, 2, 3 points I gotta get across 

1 don't 2 make me 3 go off