Beat Box
Ludacris, Greg Street
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[* People talking in the background *] [Ludacris talking] Yeah, they never seen that shit comin' Greg Street and Ludacris, Georgia to Texas All over why'all ass Dirty South nigga, check it [Ludacris] Now I'm an honest ho and all my hoes is honest Luda make you brace yourself like orthodontist I'm hooked on chronic and Smirnoff twist But know ass in spandex is a turn-off bitch It's not right like chapped lips if you givin' some mouth Niggas want me on a song so I give em' the South Thirty a verse, cars just for sixteen bars And that's before I did this, so it probably went up Eighty thousand dollar bonds, I ain't givin' a f*ck Cause that's change in my pocket, 45 I cock it Click before I spit then it's time to scram Bought a Cutlass on dubs, colored candy yams And that's bowling ball paint so I roll the lane Keep a poker face bitch and I fold the game On a come up, get done up and it's time to creep Freestyle motherfucker, nightmare on Greg Street
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Written by: CHRISTOPHER BRIDGES, CHRISTOPHER BRIAN BRIDGES
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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"Beat Box Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 19 Apr. 2024. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric/5230159/Ludacris/Beat+Box>.
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