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DJ Clue F/ The L.O.X., Mase 1, 2, 3, 4 Here are the song lyrics for 1, 2, 3, 4 by DJ Clue F/ The L.O.X., Mase. For more excellent DJ Clue F/ The L.O.X., Mase lyrics, run a search! Verse One: Sheek Luchion You on the circle line, what's wrong? Ain't your yacht out yet ain't you that Willie, Benz pushing, slash Melrose cat Nigga please, in the Hills of Beverly, you find it's heavenly slingin' dick to Pamela Anderson bitches daily L.O.X., when we ball it's Pay-Per-View y'all Straight movie flee in the Z3 while woozy Now gentlemen, do we have to get into some gangsta shit for me to get paid on my song, y'all just get sprayed Esta mointo; as a nail but on point though I'll blast up the loca for skimming on my coca L.O.X., in total control and power and everything you see us with in videos be ours You can't afford it, so you playa hate I see your logic my coat is $1500 keep your army in the closet As long as L-O-X keeps giving you what you need we gonna take it there nigga AS WE PROCEED Chorus (Ma$e): 1, 2, 3, 4 (4X) Verse Two: Jadakiss Yo, you already know what I'm here for therefore, L-O-X be the niggaz that I care for Holding down this foundation, Mr. Jason bald head, baby faced and I stay laced and When you pay good, you play good, stay good I'ma get this money while you fake thugs stay hood Why wouldn't I be stacking franks 15 in clip while you packing shanks Iron swinger, hair triggers, Fed bidders real niggaz, the lil' kids still dig us Next time be careful who you bring drama to speaker phone in the Suburban with 6 monitors Pad lock everything filled to the top we ain't gonna stop, we just gonna squeeze 'til you drop Paniro, Luch, bounce in the coupe with no trouble all my niggaz bubble like goose Or geese, Nautica fleece it ain't nothing but now I can drop 25 on the piece Butta Nats do it with whoever, who you kidding? back to back like green on the other side of Clinton Shock treatments for them cats who can't freak it we keep 'em dusted, that's why they always try to leak it But peep it, that weed shit, you can keep it we trying to sell all the real units we can eat with Verse Three: Styles Paniro Fuck the cars and the clothes, sex and the bitch homies that got life and niggaz that run thick Like a pack of wolves with tools we all improve chance I can drown I ain't jumping in the pool I ain't a fool, you fucking with the Guineas and the Mouls when the money's making me hot, I move where it's cool My pigment is just a figment you never see my ghost, move through the L-O-X triangle pyramid This is for them cats that's like "who's the L.O.X." better float up to Yonkers nigga choose a block Got Arabics, Ricans, Jews and Wops drinking booze 'bout to drop, trying to lose the cops Same shit, where you at say where you at I got my first felony, holding my gat And I been robbing cats, slinging my sacks Styles P-A-N-I-R-O BM Doub., see that thug, get that dough We ain't positive, but we ain't negative the cops got guns and they don't like us where we live Take notes, I'm smoking a roach, holding my toast giving my quotes, to the shorties living with dope You think it ain't real, until you're caged in and you can't get a feel we keep the rage in cuz we never made a mil. So we blazin' all the faggots on the hill fuckin' niggaz girls but they keep 'em on the pill But dog wear your hat cuz the honey's type ill everything is real
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