Single / Track

1,2,3

Chief Keef•Official Audio (YouTube API)

Lyrics

(Foenem Radio, on BD)

(Sosa on the beat)

Mic check (one, two, three)

For war, I bought fighter jets, I bought (one, two, three)

I got thirty, but I'ma give his ass (one, two, three)

I don't get one pound of gas, I get (one, two, three)

Baby say her body count ain't ten, it's (one, two, three)

She was suckin' before I got to count (one, two, three)

How many M's in one bank account? (One, two, three)

I got nine cars, but I brought out (one, two, three)

I always believed I was gon' get paid

When I got to hustlin' up in sixth grade

You ain't givin' up that nigga, you won't get laid

Sleep for the weak, I been up for six days

She seen my car, said, "Oh, Lord"

Two houses and got money up in both floors

Go, Forrest, leave your ass in the old forest

If I fall, bitch, I'm landin' on all fours

I don't fuck with pigs, so I don't eat pork

Give me crooked-ass smiles, make your teeth warped

Will he land? Sosa flyer than an airport

I got one big gun, fuck an Air Force

Lambo' whiter than some Air Forces

Check my closet, bitch, it look like a damn endorsement

You don't want the gang input, we got sources

One thing I really hate is when a bitch force it

Off the shits, feel like I'm levitatin'

I was trappin' outta granny basement

Me and money can't be separated

Me and diamonds, we been havin' babies

I got paper for the demonstration

Hotbox the whip, what a ventilation

Police pull me over, I can tell they hatin'

I got pink slips, license, pink slips, license, and registration

Always knew I was the one made outta gold

Always knew I was the one to make it out the 'Go

And my heart real heavy like a centerfold

Sosa, who the fuck you trust more? Friend or foe?

I ain't even gotta think, I don't trust both

That's why I got my pole tucked for the cutthroat

He ain't gang, I don't trust that nigga, fuck no

I got a .44 Bulldog, nigga, you a mutt, though

I got one, two, three shark-heads in the nick'

Chief Sosa pull strings, nigga, but he don't knit

I paid one, two, three thousand dollars for these kicks

Gon' play, give your ass, one, two, three kicks (one, two, three)

Four, five, six (one, two, three)

Friend group of six, I fucked (one, two, three)

Nigga, that ain't my bitch, I got (one, two, three)

If I rent three cars, I still got (one, two, three)

Brought four cases back, but I got (one, two, three)

How many stashes do the Track' got? (One, two, three)

Everybody give it up for the Black guy (one, two, three)

Round of applause when she make that ass clap

I push her head down like I'm tellin' her to take a nap

Hundred-dollar bill as my towel in the bath

House on the sand, I can carve out a path

Baby tried to rip my damn heart out, I laughed

Work a bitch out, now she weak, what's a calf?

She just pushed a baby out, she workin' on her abs

Told her at my house is a gym, yeah, I have

Told her two plus one equals three, simple math

I should take my Lambo' and disguise it as a cab

Stick hit your ribs, now your ribs have a slab

Up the 40, put that bitch up on you like a tab

Check my Lambo', bitches crawlin' like a crab

Bitch, don't get it twisted, I'll drive it through a crowd

Grocery store the only time I'm walkin' up the aisle

I take that back, just give me a bitch that ain't got many miles

It's show time (one, two, three)

I bow my head, pray, and count to (one, two, three)

I don't buy one or two, I bought like one, two, three

I'm top five and I'm in the first one, two, three

Hail Mary, nigga, hut, one, two, three

Five star, and the average shit one through three

Thirty stick finna piece one, two, three

All this motherfuckin' energy, this run through me

I bow my head, pray, and count to