LYRICS
作词 : BRIDGES, CHRISTOPHER BRIAN/DEAN, KASEEM
作曲 : Bridges, Dean
(Oh no ) I caught him with a blow to the chest
(Oh no ) my hollow put a hole in his vest
(Oh no ) I'm bout to send two to his dome
(Oh no ) cry babies go home
I got people scared as **** like when condoms break
Or how your heart deals with eatin' eighty pounds of steak
So put your belly on a plate and watch your weight
You frostin' like a flake and ludacris feels grrreat
Who want come face me face come want who
And women give me face until they're face turns blue
They can't breathe **** to mouth recessatation
A tight squeeze witch stops the lengthy conversations
I playstations duck cops and lose agents
I'm doctor love i close curtains and **** patients
When i kick and rip and flip an indespensable rhyme
My black ass is so hungry i'll take a bite out of crime
And it'll hurt if i swallow but even more if i choke
Neighbors called the fire station off the blunt that i smoke
You see i crush cowards funerals i'll send flowers
And i'm on the overpass flick pennies at rush hour
You see i'm ambidextrous i slap ass with both hands
Delete your first steps but i'll save the last dance
I just bought some new guns my mama said it ain't worth it
But i'm at the shooting range just 'cause practice makes perferct
Bullseye i stunt growth and stop lives
You run with niggas that's more chicken then pot pies
Bok bok bok i'm shakin your tale feathers
I got big balls i'm a sac king like chris webber
Luda' will take you back to duck hunt and double dribble
When niggas sold quarters and dimes and smoked nickels
My cars got big tvs and satellites
I got a wheel of fortune 'cause i flip hoes like Vanna White
And the servey says (kill a mutha ****a now)
Could it be off with his head (or shoot a mutha ****a down)
Ground round ground chuck your ground beef
Bullets gather round then i shoot rounds around teeth
I kick mother****ers in they're ass reboot 'em like laptop
And they wouldn't even box if i gave 'em a flat top
You punks pucker and pout bicker and babble
Now they all lost for words like i beat 'em in scrabble
You see i'm from a small town called fresh out a cop's ass
Where mr head-potatoes are skinned and get mashed
I smell puss from fifty yards
Y'all not playin with full decks as if
I jacked out ya jacks and left fifty cards
Catch me in vegas spendin' the green
I re-up with more chips than a vending machine
Then you can catch me in rome makin some brauds and sticking 'em
And you'll be at home picking your bougars and flicking 'em
A drug dealer's dream so fresh and i'm so clean
I'm a grown ass man and you're sweeter than sixteen
So go and kick rocks peons you're just rookies
Headed down stairs to get you some milk and cookies