Baby Bubba lyrics

Artist  : Timbaland 
Song : Baby Bubba



 Send "Baby Bubba" Ringtone to your Cell 

 







  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  








(feat. Petey Pablo)

(Pop a Dom boo, what,
c'mon)

[Petey Pablo]
It's the dippy
dippy don now you heard that
Let's take you
back, where the original Tim the bird at?
I
got shit here to make you down on
twelve-pack
Call Rudy, tell him hook us up a
twenty sack
C'mon c'mon c'mon, we ballin
y'all
Where my cats think you feel me
at?
Alla y'all, and when we earn that
They
finally let the dish and the pan
Then I start
with some cash
Let me get to Virginia (V-A)
link up with Timbaland
Now I'm bustin they
ass
Now they callin me The Incredible
Man
I'ma shit it sick like YEAHHH
And there
is one thing to understand
Y'all know what it
is and Petey is just what I am
Spit what I
spit cause I don't give a damn
Spin like just
like y'all spin at the mall in blue drawers
On
some du-rag, it's 'bout to be the all that
is
New broad, new day, new cars, new
motherfuckin deal
Heyyyyyy

[Chorus:
Petey Pablo]
Heyyyyyyyyyy baby bubba
If
y'all feel it let me hear you say
Heyyyyyyyyyy
baby bubba
We lost the music
selector
Heyyyyyyyyyy baby bubba
If y'all
feel it let me hear you say
Heyyyeyyyeyyyyy
baby bubba
Well he caught me in the van, the
gun chat lean
fah-ward

[Timbaland]
Check me out in my
black Trans-Am dippin on that man, who that
be?
TIM-BA-land, now haters wanna get at
me
Just because we three brothers dippin in
the FLY RIDE
He don't care though, nigga we
just three FLY GUYS
all up in your local mall
pickin all your local broads
HOLLA - if you
wanna get into a local brawl
We the
in-timidators, y'all in-timidated
by our bling
bling ring ring, and I can't debate
it
LOWRIDERS (bzz bzzt) hittin on
switches
As we PASS BY YA (bzz bzzt) in sun
fire - c'mon!
What y'all need to do is throw
that shit up, shit up
For the cool amigos with
Tequila in the gut
What y'all know about them
Southern girls with them big butts?
What y'all
know about them buckshots bustin from a
truck?
Yeah, yeah - that's that Southern
hospitality
The come of the me, the come of
the Pete
The come of the 'goo, the come of the
G

[Chorus]

[Magoo]
Mag spit it
'til I die fucker
You wit your label kissin
ass like a damn sucker
Meanwhile, Mag in
Virginia in some house shoes, watchin the
news
Do my album when I'm ready, tell my label
to sue
If I got it I'ma get 'em, it's cornered
and sell some (?)
from N-Y to floater while
I'm humpin your daughter
Stayin in the French
quarter and listen to Juvenile
I like that
South shit, all my niggaz is wild
You gotta
come up with a new plan, I'm sayin man
South
boys ain't fuckin playin - check them
This
week got OutKast and No Limit, and
Eightball
Scarface, Ludacris, and Goodie Mob,
UHH
We do it country cause we proud of this
shit
All those that wanna hate on hip-hop can
eat a dick
I ain't a thug and I ain't tryna
be
They tryna take my love man and it bothered
me

[Chorus - repeat 2X]