1, 2, 3 Grind Lloyd Banks (Ft. Prodigy)

[Verse 1: Lloyd Banks]
Wordplay in the worst way
Earthquake, niggas is shook, ash in my purp tray
20′s on Benz day, Lincoln on Thursday
Highday, full fever leaving off the driveway
Cheeba got my mind grey, diva bottle entree
Cooler than 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, slicker when I hit the street
Greens 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

[Chorus: Lloyd Banks]
Money movin on the dime
Ready 1…2…3 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'mma get 'em every time
Ready 1…2…3…grind!