Intro/Chorus: (x6)
 1 motherfuckin 2 motherfuckin 3
 1 and here comes the 2 to the 3  and

 Verse 1: Lakim Shabazz

 ???? rappers are full of this  since I'm a Don I'm pullin out a hit
 cos I'm fired up  I'm tired of all the bullshit
 Flavor Unit  it's time to attack the 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 ya, make ya feel real sore
 Have that ass lookin just like *?this boo-boo?* slipped the door
 Known to kill, dunk skills, e-rupt
 You ask why? My reply is 'I don't give a fuck!'
 I'm a Panther, I love fresh meat
 After I kill ya, I'ma leave ya body across 110th Street
 My tactics are drastic and real fast
 I tie one to a truck and go drag ya 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 ya prop, go straight back down ya throat
 Everyday all day this be the hard way
 Puttin rappers outta commission even on an off-day
 Flavor Unit rules G, we're takin rappers out
 1 motherfuckin 2 motherfuckin 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 beatnit, wait a minute, hold the fuck up
 If I was deaf, dumb, blind, stupid, blame
 handicapped, crippled and "pussy" was my middle name
 you couldn't beat me slick, snap that neck like a Chico stick
 I know who beat'cha quick (who?), my grip
 *?Failin this?* to 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
 He's with the 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 limosuine
 The rest of his body at a dove 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