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Ludacris

Phat Rabbit – Ludacris

[Ludacris – Verse One]
I be that nigga named Ludi
a k a L-O-V-A L-O-V-A
Fuck that shit
Nigga what you wan say one time
Southside let’s ride (say what)
And if you love what you do, do what you feel
Then I know you gonna mark my words
Yall drop shit like birds
Then it’s about the time for yo ass to get served
Just lay it on down
Just lay it on down
While we relax to the tight raps
And the phat tracks
That that nigga Timbaland put down
Oh yes, let’s get it on down to the nitty grit
Don’t have no time for the patient
Cuz I got more dick than a lil’ bit
And time flies, when I’m havin’ fun
I can make a hoe get like Forrest Gump and just “run baby run”
I guess that they can’t handle this
Brothers just to scandalous
If you don’t wanna get freaked
then get out my way like an ambulance (say what)
Gitty up gitty up ride up on the real, let death to the fake
And tell you boyfriend just to chill, don’t playa hate
Kick back relax, and just take off yo shoes
Cuz I gotta tell you what I wants to do (uh oh)
Yea

[Timbaland (Crowds) – CHORUS]
Let me touch it (let me touch it)
Let me feel it (let me feel it)
Let me grab it (let me grab it)
That fat rabbit (fat rabbit, fat rabbit, fat rabbit)
Let me touch it (let me touch it)
Let me feel it (let me feel it)
Let me grab it (let me grab it)
That-that rabbit (ohhh, c’mon)
Let me touch it (let me touch it)
Let me feel it (let me feel it)
Let me grab it (let me grab it)
Fat rabbit (fat rabbit, fat rabbit)
Let me touch it (let me touch it)
Let me feel it (let me feel it)
Let me grab it (let me grab it)
That-that fat rabbit (uh oh)

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[Ludacris – Verse Two]
Fatter than fat facts like a dove sack
Showin’ them where that love’s at
So open up your eyes and get a surprise like in CrackerJacks
Punan’ Don happy
Givin’ up that nappy dug out
Get the cut up, then I cut out
Why you standin there wit yo’ butt out (whoo)
And it’s always in the back of my mind
Wherever the place, whenever the time
Even in College Park, after dark, I’ma get my sunshine
Closer than close, closer than most, then I’m all up in ya
Beginner, give me a thigh, breast, and wing like Ms. Winner
And let dinner be served
Can I get it on a platter, shatter your bladder
and put so much light in yo’ life I’ll make the roaches scatter
The wetta the betta, I’m ready to get ya
Gotta have rabbit like that cheddar
So I can freak ya like I just met ya
Hot like a sauna, get comfy like in a Cadillac
Nick nack paddy wack give a dog a bone Jack
Kick back relax and just take off yo shoes
Cuz I gotta tell you what I wants to do (uh oh)
Yea

[Timbaland (Crowds) – CHORUS TWO]
Let me touch it (let me touch it)
Let me feel it (let me feel it)
Let me grab it (let me grab it)
That fat rabbit (fat rabbit, fat rabbit, fat rabbit)
Let me touch it (let me touch it)
Let me feel it, girl (let me feel it)
Let me grab it, girl (let me grab it)
That-that rabbit, girl (ohhh, c’mon)
Let me touch it, girl (let me touch it)
Let me feel it, girl (let me feel it)
Let me grab it, girl (let me grab it)
Fat rabbit, girl (fat rabbit, fat rabbit)
Let me touch it, girl (let me touch it)
Let me feel it, girl (let me feel it)
Let me grab it, girl (let me grab it)
That-that fat rabbit, girl (uh oh)

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[Ludacris]
Yo’ love is supa-cala-fragalistic
You don’t know how bad I missed it
If it broke then don’t fix it
Yo stuff is butta like a biscuit
Reminisce like Mary
I gotta pop that cherry
Kinda like that coochie
You wanna be my hoochie
Better than my advesary
Don’t be so scary
I, never thought that you could act up
Make a nigga wanna back up
Keep it tight through the night while I wet this track up
So we can slip and slide
Make you wanna dip and dive
Trippin’ while we rip and ride
Til I get to the coming side
Got you where I want yo ass
In the case of an emergency, break the glass
Keep yo eyes on the President, erase the past
We be happy if we had more blunts to pass
Get done up and run up
And the guts of yo butt don’t shake like they used to
I wake ’em up like a rooster
Take it slow, not faster than a turbo rooster
No worry, no hurry
No pain, no gain
Keep yo eyes on strain
Cuz ain’t a damn thing changed
Kick back, relax and take off yo shoes
Cuz I gotta tell you what I wants to do (uh oh)
Yea

[Repeat CHORUS TWO]

[Crowds]
Let me touch it, let me touch it
Let me feel it, let me feel it
Let me grab it, let me grab it
Fat rabbit, fat rabbit
[repeat x4]

[Timbaland]
Wha, uh huh
Yea
Dirty South, can y’all really feel me
East Coast, feel me
West Coast, feel me
Dirty South, can y’all really feel me
East Coast, feel me
West Coast, feel me
Dirty South, (uh huh) can y’all really feel me
East Coast, feel me
West Coast

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Ludacris

Throw Sum Mo (Freestyle) – Ludacris

Ain’t nothing to it, but you doing
Am all about that dumb sh*t
South side collage park
Ni**a you don’t run sh*t
My janitors map the floor
Be careful how you slipping
Never herd them boys was deep
But we don’t really give a f–k
See one a ma ni**as a fight two a yo ni**as
And then a bunch a yo ni**as is go draw

Got a bunch a gorillas
And drug dealers and killers
And none of these ni**as is ever go stop
I got enough about this plain disrespect
Is time to let a ni**a know
Lets tangle a ni**a from the top of the bucket
Better let a ni**a go

I teach you bout some manners
I teach you bout respect
I teach you about that gold chain
Hanging around your motherf–king neck
Jays watch, pinky ring I ain’t done
Pack up all your sh*t and head back to where you came from

Ni**a I ain’t the one
So miss me with that bull sh*t
Internet dumb tuggers empty out a full click
Time after time
Like am o take it up after I wake up
But rhyme after rhyme
Ludacris be the first in rapper just say go
I all about my paper
I couldn’t give a damn about a hater
Some of my ni**as from the cater
A ni**a stand up like sada for bata

You’ll really hurt my feelings
You’ll rally got to chill
I cry and wipe my tears wid hundred dollar bill
F–k you all am self made
I hustle hard, I been tril
From that Hollywood
But am hungry with that pin steel
Got hits way over your head
Yo ball in that in field
Got 10 houses unpayed for
Shorty ni**as play wisteel

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Ludacris

Move Bitch – Ludacris

(feat. I-20, Mystikal)
[whistling]

[Chorus 2x: Ludacris]

Move bitch, get out the way
Get out the way bitch, get out the way
Move bitch, get out the way
Get out the way bitch, get out the way

[Ludacris]
OH NO! The fight’s out
I’ma ’bout to punch yo…lights out
Get the FUCK back, guard ya grill
There’s somethin’ wrong, we can’t stay still
I’ve been drankin’ and bustin’ two
and I been thankin’ of bustin’ you
Upside ya motherfuckin’ forehead
And if your friends jump in, “Ohhh gurrlll”, they’ll be mo’ dead
Causin’ confusion, Disturbin Tha Peace
It’s not an illusion, we runnin tha streets
So bye-bye to all you groupies and golddiggers
Is there a bumper on your ass? NO NIGGA!
I’m doin’ a hundred on the highway
So if you do the speed limit, get the FUCK outta my way
I’m D.U.I., hardly ever caught sober
and you about to get ran the FUCK over

[Chorus]

[Mystikal over second chorus]
BITCH! Watch out, watch out, watch out
BITCH! Watch out, watch out, watch out, move

Here I come, there I go
UH OH! Don’t jump bitch, move
You see them headlights? You hear that fuckin’ crowd?
Start that goddamn show, I’m comin’ through
Hit the stage and knock the girlies down
I fuck the crowd up – that’s what I do
Young and successful – a sex symbol
The bitches want me to fuck – true true
Hold up wait up, shorty
“Oh wazzzupp, get my dick sucked, what are yoouu doin’?”
Sidelinin’ my fuckin’ bussiness
Tryin’ to get my baby child support soon
Give me that truck and take that rental back
Who bought these fuckin’ T.V.’s and jewelry bitch, tell me that?
No, I ain’t bitter, I don’t give a fuck
But i’ma tell you like this bitch
You better not walk in front of my tour bus

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[Chorus]

[I-20 over second chorus]
Bring it, get ’em

Too bad I’m on the right track
Beef, got the right mack
Hit the trunk, grab the pump pump, I’ll be right back
We buyin’ bars out, showin’ scars out
We heard there’s hoes out, so we brought the cars out
Grab the pills cuz we poppin tonight,
Beat the shit outta security for stoppin’ tha fight
I got a fifth of the remy, fuck the Belve and ‘cris
I’m sellin’ shit up in the club like I work in the bitch
Fuck the dress codes, it’s street clothes, we all street niggaz
We on the dance floor, throwin’ bows, beatin’ up niggaz
I’m from the D.E.C., tryin’ to disrespect D.T.P.
And watch the bottles start flyin’ from the V.I.P.
Fuck this rap shit, we clap bitch, two in your body
Grab ya four, start a fight dog, ruin the party
So move bitch, get out the way hoe
All you faggot motherfuckers make way for 2-0
So…

[Chorus]

[whistling]

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Ludacris

Cry Babies (Oh No) – Ludacris

[Chorus: Ludacris – repeat 2X]
(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!

[Verse One: Ludacris]
I got people scared as FUCK 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, dick to mouth recessatation
A tight squeeze witch stops the length to conversations
I Playstations, duck cops and lose agents
I’m Doctor Love, I close curtains and fuck 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

[Chorus]

[Verse Two: Ludacris]
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 flipped O’s like Vanna White
And the servey says? (Kill a mutha fucka now)
Could it be off with his head? (Or shoot a mutha fucka down)
Ground round, ground chuck your ground beef
Bullets gather round then I shoot rounds around teeth

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[Chorus]

[Verse Three: Ludacris]
I kick niggas in they’re ass reboot ’em like laptops
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 they 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 spinnin’ the green
I re-up with more chips than a vending machine
Then you can catch me in Rome, mackin’ some broads and stickin’ ’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

[Chorus] – 2X

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