Catch Up

F.A.T.E. [5], Ludacris, Infamous 2-0, 2-D, F.R.T.E.Buy this song

All this drinking going catch up
And all this smoking going catch up
But some niggas just really don't give a fuck
But some niggas just really don't give a fuck
And all this drinking going catch up
And all this smoking going catch up
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck

Now let me be quite Frank
 Cause I'm that crazy nigga Luda
 Always got a drink 
And I'm steady smoking buddah 
I do the
Evil that'll bend you when I get you
I'ma sit you down
Then take it to the mental and essential and clown  Every chance I get
 Bitch I'm hit
Not by no bullet or no pellet 
But the smoke from the can a beer shit
I might just be too high
Then I put my middle finger up when I'm ridin' by
And say hi to plenty liquors and I know it's a sin
And if ya tell me stop drinking I'll just do it again 
So when I get old I'ma rock, roll, shake, and shiver 
With some blacked out lungs and a fucked up liver 


Hey yo I do this for bluntheads and whinos 
 Steward Ave. Homes  Niggas from G-Ro committed to slanging blow
Doublin' dough 24-7
Fuck po-po's I'm blowin' dro out the Ac Legend  Running wit 2 strike felons
And I pack 4-4's like Hank Aaron 
Then'll smoke a L
Bust shells 
And dare ya to tell
Walk up in the club
 Pretty thug
 Fucked up off head shots 
Sippin' Courvousier watchin' hoes drop it like it's hot
 Shaking tits and twats  Placing big face 20's and cock
 Loading clips and glocks  Knowing we got the haters hot
The ballin' don't stop
Just drop more G's on drink and drugs 
Live it up young nigga cause it's gon' catch up


Now wit the help of Hen and Coke
I grab my pen and pad and wrote  Something that I knew was dope
And represent for my kinfolk 
Pimp a hoe until she broke 
Wit mo lines than chopped coke
Hey yo it's 2-0 I'm Eastside's King
But I'm a writer with a twist of Amaretto 
My shit even come out better 
Grab a blunt put it together 
What a nigga really need
Run up in the club and blow a motherfucker til he
 bleed  Could it be an Icehouse put his lights out
Or the club get closed out
If it's hoes out I show out
Call Tyheed get Dro'd out
There's no doubt I love my life
Love the light 
Love to write 
Love the mic
So take a drag
Grab a bag and match up
 Hennessey and bad weed
 Believe me it catch up


Git it right 
Ludacris, F.A.T.E. Fullster, Infamous 2-0, ATL 
We are the dirty south's dirtiest.  
 Disturbing the peace.

Hey bring on the bitches!


Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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"Catch Up Lyrics." STANDS4 LLC, 2017. Web. 24 Jun 2017. <>.

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Catch Up