1, 2, 3 Grind Lyrics - The Cold Corner 2 - Lloyd Banks

[Lloyd Banks - Verse 1] 

Wordplay in the worst way 

Earthquake, niggas is shook, ash in my purp tray, 

20s on Benz day, Lincoln on Thursday, 

Highday, full fever leaving off the driveway, 

Cheeba got my mind grey, diva bottle entree, 

Cooler then a cooler, armed like a padre, 

Ya baby momma dream about the God 

I let her hit the button fingers startin up the car 

Style when I sleep, snicker when I hit the street 

Green, pillin' up body builder when I lift the beat 

My weed sour my bitches sweet, 

Marine style but my shit discrete, 

Watch me make the flip repeat, 

I don't trick or treat, but so halloween, 

Michael myers with the fire trip holla scream, 

I gotta lotta cream, and a solid team, 

It's like i'm playin solitare, 

I don't see a challenge here, yeaaah 

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[Chorus] 

Money movin on the dime, 

Ready 123 grind, 

Niggas better give me mine, 

About my funds, top down, 

Ready for the shine, 

Gettin to it so inline, 

I'm influenced by the gold, 

I do it if i tried 

I'ma get 'em every time, 

Ready 123grind! 

Photos 

[Prodigy - Verse 2] 

You know there's rules that you following 

And tools get the hollow point 

Poppin' at these fools 

These dudes get their narrow ass deceased 

I terminate, unleash the purly gate 

Put that work in than I spin like a 38 

All around the world, back around the world twice 

Fucking with the internash infamous paradigm 

Catch your bitch on the line at the concert 

I'm gonna take advantage of this opportunity time 

I'm the worst of the worst, vultures 

Come on slime, you aint never in your life never life like mine 

This is grand theft audio, you just a petty crime 

In my parade of hits, get confetti on my shine 

You short like spaghetti, I'm harder than a whale dick 

Clap a nigga real quick, falling outta line like 

1 2 3 they will be dropping like Dominoes, vamonos 

I show you how to die, it's career suicide must be on that crack high 

Coming at me diagonally, the fuck you on your mind fuck be on you niggas brains 

It seems you wish death, 

Yo blow, these niggas playin' games ready for flesh 

[Chorus] 

[Lloyd Banks - Verse 3] 

Big chain photo, still ? when you see me 

HFM in 3d, hood beemer bump my CD 

I'ma a creep, do some foul shit every week 

F-ck my shawty sister, left her lipstick all in my sheets 

Stay low I'm on that shit, hittin' 

Looking for a menage they looking for a sponsor 

Opposite of bubblegum rap, I chew the track 

All 4 of my pockets fat, Lincoln New York city rap 

Brighter than my jewelery I'm in line with the stars 

I'm from Mars, I'm bad stacking Domino broads 

Living large, you gon need 500 bars 

When we drive, make bouji bitches climb in the cars 

Wheels spin the street off, Porsche feet off 

The haters still hating and they hot as hell 

In need of defrost, brick ? shit old 

Play with me in hospital with a wife widow 

[Chorus]