Lyrics:
till I'm spinning that benz
I was raised by the monks, so I'm blown hot wind
On the top secret mission like the Codename kids
Knocking down walls like
we jumping in now
Jumping inside the machine lil' bitch
Move out the way
Like my name Ludacris
Pull up right now
If you ready to hit
They pull up
[Intro: Lil' Flip]
Yeeah.. this is pimpin at its finest man
Ha ha ha ha, yeeah, let it bang
I go by the name Lil' Flipper, man
You know Mr. Like
it is by sellin cocaine, but I'm sayin'
Use your brain homie, do the right thang! (Lemme talk to 'em)
Use your brain homie, do the right thang!
Fine girls fuck with me
Rich girls fuck with my flow
Nasty girls ride with me
Good girls a couple I know
Every girl walk by the studio and feel
before that I'm in a mood
I said before that I'm hungry
I'm going ludacris you better move
Everyone looking like lunch meat
I really thought you know you
care if this causes troubled skies or your bothered by
This type of medicine that gets people floating like their high
Most of us don't care if you have
Let’s get super geek’d
Uh
Let’s Ludacris
Uh
Let’s get super geek’d baby I ain’t new to this
Uh
Let’s get super geek’d
Ice my neck and wrist it
don't kno what's up with me
That Riesling and rolling papers make it hard to see
But they wolves in sheep's clothing they produced by mike dean
Them
to get rich
All them haters get back cause I feel like Ludacris
Ima shoot my shot and you know I never miss
Cant stop won't stop I'm addicted to the shift
the A I told this baby I feel Ludacris
Bring some champagne to the table we the goof fellas
Gettin money fuckin whores baby look at us
I done prolly hit yo
get leaked
Hop in his car he gone he fleed
Got no friends like Vlone tee
Like a chef I'm by my cheese
Yeah, Huh
Move bitch
Like I'm (yeah)
Ludacris
I
She said I get what I want
No matter who it hurts
Yeah that bitch she led me on
But I got to the top first
Took that note
Watch it float
Hang me by
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
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
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
jaded by the Grammy's on the mantelpiece
Just switch your camera lenses, you would see the agony
Apparently it's damaging the man you see before you
a millionaires fantasy
With phantoms and Ferrari's in the driveway
But you see I came and exchanged of a sane man's sanity,
Your vision jaded by the Grammy's
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
underwear, silly"
But I was turned off by her tupper-ware titties
(Fake bitches, break bitches, make bitches
Kick rocks, when they fucked up in they face
a couple books by Donald Goins
Bout the business of this shit, how to flip a few coins
Before the age of eighteen, I was destined to make it
My bank account
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
From the power bestowed upon me
By the third coast
Deep in the trenches of Atlanta
Where they learned most
You never heard before flows
This extra
on 285, on 285 [x2]
[Ludacris:]
I come equipped with 2 straps on my lap move back 45 tucked by my side
Sip a little bit of this, sip that drink up I'm so
.jpg/204px-Ludacris_2008_(cropped).jpg "Ludacris")
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