Catch Up song lyrics
f/ F.A.T.E., Infamous 2-0
(Chorus)
All this drinking gon catch up
And all this smoking gon catch up
But some n*ggaz just really don't give a f*ck
But some n*ggaz just relly don't give a f*ck
And all this drinking gon catch up
And all this smoking gon catch up
But some b*tches just really don't give a f*ck
But some b*tches just really don't give a f*ck
(Ludacris)
Now let me be quite Frank
Cause I'm that crazy n*gga 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
B*tch 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 f*cked 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
F*ck 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
F*cked up off head shots
Sippin' Courvousier watchin' hoes drop it like it's
hot
Shaking tits and twats
Placing big face 20's and c*ck
Loading clips and gl*cks
Knowing we got the haters hot
The ballin' don't stop
Just drop more G's on drink and drugs
Live it up young n*gga 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 d*pe
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 n*gga really need
Run up in the club and blow a motherf*cker 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 we*d
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 b*tches!! |