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    Ludacris / Lyrics

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    "Catch Up" Lyrics


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    All this drinking gon catch up
    And all this smoking gon catch up
    But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck
    But some niggaz just relly don't give a fuck

    And all this drinking gon catch up
    And all this smoking gon catch up
    But some bitches just really don't give a fuck
    But some bitches just really don't give a fuck

    Now let me be quite Frank
    Cause I'm that crazy nigga 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
    Bitch 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 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 fucked up liver


    (Infamous 2-0)
    Ey yo I do this for bluntheads and whinos
    Steward Ave. Homes
    Niggaz from G-Ro committed to slanging blo
    Doublin' dough 24-7
    Fuck 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 shells
    And dare ya to tell
    Walk up in the club
    Pretty thug
    Fucked up off head shots
    Sippin' Courvousier watchin' hoes drop it like it's
    Shaking tits and twats
    Placing big face 20's and cock
    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 nigga cause it's gon' catch up


    Now wit the help of Hen and Coke
    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 coke
    Ey yo it's 2-0 I'm Eastside's King
    I came with a Beretta with a twist of Amaretta
    My shit even come out better
    Grab a blunt put it together
    What a nigga really need
    Run up in the club and blow a motherfucker til he
    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


    Git it right
    Ludacris, F.A.T.E. Fullster, Infamous 2-0, ATL
    We are the dirty south's dirtiest. Disturbing the peace.
    This song was last modified on October 18th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group.
    Written by Christopher Bridges, Christopher Brian Bridges, Bobbie Sandmanie, Arbie Wilson.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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