What Up
Ay Shawty What It Is
What Up
Ay Shawty What It Is
What Up
Ay Shawy What It Is
(Chorus X 2)
Little Buddy What You Want
Sum Violent Shit
Two Steppin Layd Back Still Wild N Shit
What Up... Hey Baby I Got The Potion
Take A Sip Of This And Put Your Back In Motion
Man Im Like A Needle In A Haystack, So Face That
Go Back To The Drawin Board Connect Dot But Cant Trace That
Matter Fact Erase That
Cuz On This Big Track Get Your Face Slapped
And Im Straight So Dont Chase That
Try Somethin Different N Shit
So Listen N Shit
Speakin About What Hip-Hop Is Missin N Shit
Im About To Fill A Void
Ludacris Born In Illinious, Raise In Atlanta
Tote Hammers Since I Was A Little Boy
Aint Nobody Like Me, Say They Wanna Bite Me
Fight Me, Step To Me Now But It Aint Like Me
People Swear They Sight Me
Just Cuz Hes Light Skinned With Braids In His Hair
Dont Mean That Nigga Look Like Me'
Trick Get Your Mind Right, Livin In The Lime Life
So Picture What They'll Do For My Jimmy And A Klondike
Bar, Bar, Hardyhar, Tell Your Momma Im A Ghetto Superstar
(Chorus X 2)
Only Stand 5 '8, But Still A Big Shot
Plus I Got A Big
Clean Every Day, Stay Fresher Then Whats In A Zip-Lock
Tell Your Man To Kick Rocks, When I Make My Pit Stops
Im In, Then Its Hard To Get Me Out Like Im A Slipnot
Wanna Be A Leader And Not, No Not A Follower
Only Hang With Chicks That Got More Twist Then Oliver
Not Much Of A Hollara But I Like To Borrow Her Lips
Bringin Out The Best In Me, Specially If Shes A Swollowa
Freaky Deaky Yellow Man, And Im Sayin Hello Man
To All The Lovely Ladies That Like To Jiggle Like Jello Man
Biger Booty, Small Waste, Put Em' In A Small Place
And If Aint No Ass Where I'm At Then Im In The Wrong Place
Bail Like A Bondsman, But Keep Em Dancin
Got Pop Potential Stay Black Like Bob Johnson
Who The Hell Is That In That Fancy Car
Tell Your Momma Im A Ghetto Superstar
(Chorus X 2)
Jump Down Turn Around Pick A Pail Cotton
Jump Down Turn Around Pick A Pail Hay
Ohh Lordy Pick A Pail Cotton
Ohh Lordy Pick A Pail Hay
( X 2 )
Still Workin Like A Slave Learnin Tricks Of The Trade
In A Ghetto State Of Mind Say Im Rich And Im Paid
Pickin Records Like Cotton In The Thick Of The Day
Till Im Spoiled And Im Rotten In A Sinister Way
Life No Different Then Those All Minimum Wage
More Money But Still Locked In A Similar Cage
Either Losers Of Tomorrow, Or We Winners Today
Now Just That And Theres Really Nothin Missin To Say
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