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Ludacris( Christopher Brian Bridges )
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B.O.T.S. Radio
Lyricist:Christopher Bria Bridges, R Guy, A Harr, J Jackson, Bobby Wardell Sandimanie
Oh, yeah, welcome back to Battle Of The Sexes Radio Where it is 12:45 in the AM And disturbin' the pieces are in-studio guests Our hot-line is lit the fuck up with people with relationship issues Caller number one, you are on the air
Yeah, man, y'all tell me if I'm crazy 'cause this girl in here trippin' You know what I'm sayin', I'm a real man, I take care of home I take care of my kids, I pay all my bills, I, I mean I ain't gon' lie I may check a little female from time to time on the side You know what I'm talkin' bout but what man don't So how can I break this down to her?
Ludacris, how do you feel about this particular situation?
Yo, get your money right, ladies, let me sign your own checks But don't call me after midnight unless we havin' sex Don't ever assume nothin', a man gon' be a man A groupy gon' be a groupy, a fan gon' be a fan
These tricks gon' keep on trickin', so hustlers gon' keep hustlin' Long as there's new poochie, them dogs gon' keep fuckin' So don't be all up in my phone, replyin' on women's pages I thought your mama told you, you should never talk to strangers
Don't ever ask no questions that you really Don't want the answers to Stop poppin' up at the mouth or like Nino Brown I'll have to cancel you Handle you, stop the ride, leave you on the avenue Half of you always seem to want some nigga to pamper you
And that'll do for him but not for me, I'll probably baffle you And if he wants to act a fool, I'll show 'em what they gotta do Run along, go find somebody to snitch or go chit-chatter to Then your name will follow with 'Eh, whatever happened to?'
Exactly, that's just what she needed You damn right, player, alright, thank you for callin' Man, next caller, yeah, I hear you but let's talk about The fake ass brothers with the 24's But can't pay the note on their lease And my nigga with this high style chains But I can't get him to pay his damn child support
That's why we makin' more money Ownin' our own property and right Just as nice, so now, I guess if we want to We can bare ya'll too now, huh Interestin', Shauna, you wanna stick on this one?
Get your man right, nigga's, get a bitch that can keep up with you I'm tired of thinkin' to myself why in the hell did I ever fuck with you Got stuck with you, sick of your childish games And all the stuff you do, I probably mentioned your name Put you to the game, I've had enough of you
I seen your type before, doin' your 4's all over the floor Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com He's flashin' his chain's, he's flashin' his dough He drinkin' the fifths and drinkin' them all But what you don't know this nigga bro He can't even afford the smokin' Back in the hood off the hustlers and Jeez knows he's the joke
That's why I cheat a nigga, just when he eat it I tell him, beat it, nigga Real bitches true to the game, that's how you G a nigga DTP stayin' the zone like we on BCP Chrome on the SS Shawn, I bowly recip thee
Ya'll niggas ain't on my level, why do it so poor? Pineapple in berry, we feel it's sup-goo Lightnin' is Sup-doo, I get my own stay That's why I leave them too, honey, they never call back
That's why, Shauna, pussy rule the world Yes, it does, next caller, what's up? Man, what's up, this is Marv, I wanna know If ya'll got somebody to talk to these triflin' ass women Like me, I'm a good man but all these good men get treated like shit
Our friends callin' at 3:30 in the mornin' Marcus don't wanna talk about no numbers Marcus wanna talk about that ass and I ain't havin' it Ya'll got someone to talk to these women? 'Cause they need to be told I-20, you better talk to 'em
Yo, get your money right, ladies, tell the man to get gone But don't you show up to my crib with your period on This is lesson one, baby, listen, how should I begin? Um, ain't no such thing as a plutonic friend
You're lyin' to yourself if you don't think you want more So don't you call me insecure when he's so whoopy to go You all claim to have substance, self respect and some class But half naked in the club, Miss. Steady shakin' your ass
Screamin' I ain't got enough to touch you under your skirt But who the hell are you to tell me what my money is worth? I'm on the streets and you're trippin' I don't make you feel safe I stay at home and you're complainin' that I think we need space
I'm not sayin' that it's fair but it's the way that it is Ain't no nigga tryna marry you with four or five kids It may sound a little harsh but it's straight from the heart A nigga didn't write the scripts so I'm just doin' my part Yeah
Preach, my brother, preach, I hope every woman there heard that And you better believe they did and some millions of people listenin' That's our show for this evening, ladies and gentle man I gotto get a piece of ass my damn self, alright
Check at same time, same place tomorrow Battle Of The Sexes Radio signin' off, good night
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