[Chorus: Ludacris - repeat 2X]
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(Oh No!) I caught him with a blow to the chest
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(Oh No!) My hollow put a hole in his vest
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(Oh No!) I'm bout to send two to his dome
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(Oh No!) Cry babies go home!
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[Verse One: Ludacris]
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I got people scared as FUCK like when condoms break
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Or how your heart deals with eatin' eighty pounds of steak
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So put your belly on a plate and watch your weight
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You frostin' like a flake and Ludacris feels grrreat!
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Who want come face me, face come want who?
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And women give me face until they're face turns blue
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They can't breathe, dick to mouth recessatation
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A tight squeeze witch stops the length to conversations
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I Playstations, duck cops and lose agents
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I'm Doctor Love, I close curtains and fuck patients
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When I kick and rip and flip an indespensable rhyme
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My black ass is so hungry I'll take a bite out of crime
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And it'll hurt if I swallow, but even more if I choke
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Neighbors called the fire station off the blunt that I smoke
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You see I crush cowards, funerals I'll send flowers
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And I'm on the overpass flick pennies at rush hour
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[Chorus]
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[Verse Two: Ludacris]
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You see I'm ambidextrous I slap ass with both hands
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Delete your first steps, but I'll save the last dance
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I just bought some new guns my mama said "it ain't worth it"
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But I'm at the shooting range just 'cause practice makes perfect
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Bullseye, I stunt growth and stop lives
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You run with niggas that's more chicken then pot pies
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Bok bok bok I'm shakin your tale feathers
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I got big balls, I'm a SAC King like Chris Webber
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Luda' will take you back to duck hunt and double dribble
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When niggas sold quarters and dimes and smoked nickels
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My cars got big TVs and satellites
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I got a Wheel of Fortune 'cause I flipped O's like Vanna White
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And the servey says? (Kill a mutha fucka now)
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Could it be off with his head? (Or shoot a mutha fucka down)
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Ground round, ground chuck your ground beef
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Bullets gather round then I shoot rounds around teeth
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[Chorus]
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[Verse Three: Ludacris]
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I kick niggas in they're ass reboot 'em like laptops
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And they wouldn't even box if I gave 'em a flat top
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You punks pucker and pout, bicker and babble
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Now they all lost for words like I beat 'em in Scrabble
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You see I'm from a small town called "Fresh out a cop's ass"
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Where Mr. Head-Potatoes are skinned they get mashed
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I smell puss from fifty yards
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Y'all not playin with full decks as if I jacked out ya Jacks and left fifty cards
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Catch me in Vegas spinnin' the green
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I re-up with more chips than a vending machine
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Then you can catch me in Rome making some brauds and sticking 'em
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And you'll be at home picking your bougars and flicking 'em
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A drug dealer's dream, so fresh and I'm so clean
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I'm a grown ass man and you're sweeter than sixteen
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So go and kick rocks peons you're just rookies
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Headed down stairs to get you some milk and cookies
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[Chorus - 2X]
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-----------------
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Cry Babies (Oh No)
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Ludacris |