Catch Up lyrics

Artist  : Ludacris 
Song : Catch Up



 Send "Catch Up" Ringtone to your Cell 

 

(Chorus)
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

(Ludacris)
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

Chorus

(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
hot
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

Chorus

(F.A.T.E.)
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
But
I'm a writer 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
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 bitches!!