Lyrics:
cracker a day (what? Oh shit)
Girl, well, I heard the bitch was married to Tim
And started fucking with Trina
Well, I heard the bitch got hit by three
real, aww, it's testimony time
Oh who is that? Young Chris Bridges
Boy I'm glad you finally grew into them ears
Go on and testify
[Ludacris]
Lord,
never seen
And you walk up in the club, straight holding her hand, like you the man
But deep in your hear you know she's a fan
'Cause she's struck by
daddy's out of town so uhh, you can fuck around
It's okay to check in that Motel 6
$59.95, not a cent more for that dirty-ass hoe
Yeah, stop by that
Rodney, Bobby, Ricky or Mike
But Maseratis and them Bugattis by the end of the night
They say they want a cocktail, with a twist in it
They like
own lane, smashin' the gas
You furious, I'm too fast like Ludacris, bitch
Sippin' Sandeni in a village of Greenwich
I'm in it and feel it, infinite
Press 3 if you accept the charges, if not hang up
[Ludacris]
To my cousin Darren Ranch, stay up homie
To my brother Chris Butler, stay up homie
If
Ay, yo' check this out, supreme figga nigga Big Kap
Rockin' with Lil' Jon, Eastside Boyz, Chyna Whyte (Ludacris, nigga)
$hort Dog (ay, tell them
bitch, Ludacris, bitch, move
Yeah
Shoutout H-Town, payin' Michael Jordan for the blue
Fuck the breakdown, sellin' whole thangs by the twos
Play with me,
Just bring the liquor; there's already eight shawties
I'm on my way (way); let me stop by the store
Get a twelve pack of Corona plus a ounce of 'dro,
places
Pop pills, drink liquor by the cases
Get high, make a woman get low
In the strip club looking for familiar faces
People know me on a first name
your loyal to his ass then he's a motherfuckin fool,
Got jewels on my pinky, jewels on my wrist
Iconic status and his name is Ludacris,
Bitch please,
Yes, sir this is Ludacris
In a recite to you an original poem
Written by my man 2Pac Shakur
Entitled in the depths of solitude
And it goes with
Big Kap
Ay yo check this out, supreme figga nigga Big Kap
Rockin' with Lil' Jon, Eastside Boyz,
Chyna Whyte
Ludacris nigga
$hort Dogg
(Ay tell them
Ay, yo' check this out, supreme figga nigga Big Kap
Rockin' with Lil' Jon, Eastside Boyz, Chyna Whyte (Ludacris, nigga)
$hort Dog (ay, tell them
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
the music industry man.
Ludacris and field mob,
Mouth to mic resuscitation.
Lets go.
can you handle it?
Eight away, bang in the back with the woofer
real; aww, it's testimony time
Oh who is that? Young Chris Bridges
Boy I'm glad you finally grew into them ears
Go on and testify
[Ludacris]
Lord, please
slang shots
Hit G spots by giving hoes back shots
I'm a young country boy, long socks with flip flops
But I pull up on your block in the 500 Benz drop
Ludacris, ya boy was doin' this
Before Snoop Dogg, I put rabbits in the morgue
Before Dr. Dre, I was out in L.A.
Before 50 Cent, I was sittin' on Enz
When
Chris whole click Ludacris
Disturbing the peace when we move in
We ain't never had no peace why I blast that B tell em move to the left
Nigga ima man by
the shades
Amazed
By the bullshit they try to portray
He got champagne dreams with a mind minimum wage
How you think you fuckin with me when you sleep and I'm
of lemon
This one is the buisineisum
I don't make this drink by the gallon
I make it by the cup, then I'm stylin'
Got KFK, Slaughterhouse and Brother
sweet from the
Thighs to the cheek
Sex on the beach
Check the size of my meat
Call me the butcher
Ludacris King Ding-a-Ling
Sheet smusher
Sweet
.jpg/204px-Ludacris_2008_(cropped).jpg "Ludacris")
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