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ludacris - catch up lyrics

f/ f.a.t.e., infamous 2-0

(chorus)
all this drinking gon catch up
and all this smoking gon catch up
but some n-gg-z just really don’t give a f-ck
but some n-gg-z just relly don’t give a f-ck

and all this drinking gon catch up
and all this smoking gon catch up
but some b-tches just really don’t give a f-ck
but some b-tches just really don’t give a f-ck

(ludacris)
now let me be quite frank
cause i’m that crazy n-gg- luda
always got a drink
and i’m steady smoking buddah
i do the
evil that’ll bend you when i get you
i’mma sit you down
then take it to the mental and essential and clown
every chance i get
b-tch i’m hit
not by no bullet or no pellet
but the smoke from the can a beer sh-t
i might just be too high
then i put my middle finger up when i’m ridin’ by
and say hi to plenty liquors and i know it’s a sin
and if ya tell me stop drinking i’ll just do it again
so when i get old i’mma rock, roll, shake, and shiver
with some blacked out lungs and a f-cked up liver

chorus

(f.a.t.e.)
ey yo i do this for bluntheads and whinos
steward ave. homes
n-gg-z from g-ro committed to slanging blo
doublin’ dough 24-7
f-ck po-po’s i’m blowin’ dro out the ac legend
runnin wit 2 strike felons
and i pack 4-4’s like hank aaron
then’ll smoke a l
bust sh-lls
and dare ya to tell
walk up in the club
pretty thug
f-cked up off head shots
sippin’ courvousier watchin’ hoes drop it like it’s
hot
shaking t-ts and tw-ts
placing big face 20’s and c-ck
loading clips and glocks
knowing we got the haters hot
the ballin’ don’t stop
just drop more g’s on drink and drugs
live it up young n-gg- cause it’s gon’ catch up

chorus

(infamous 2-0)
now wit the help of hen and c-ke
i grab my pen and pad and wrote
something that i knew was dope
and represent for my kinfolk
pimp a hoe until she broke
wit mo lines than chopped c-ke
ey yo it’s 2-0 i’m eastside’s king
but i’m a writer with a twist of amaretta
my sh-t even come out better
grab a blunt put it together
what a n-gg- really need
run up in the club and blow a motherf-cker til he
bleed
could it be an icehouse put his lights out
or the club get closed out
if it’s hoes out i show out
call tyheed get dro’d out
there’s no doubt i love my life
love the light
love to write
love the mic
so take a drag
grab a bag and match up
hennessey and bad weed
believe me it catch up

chorus

(f.a.t.e.)
git it right
ludacris, f.a.t.e. fullster, infamous 2-0, atl
we are the dirty south’s dirtiest. disturbing the peace.

(white guy)
hey bring on the b-tches!

- ludacris lyrics

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