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[Chorus: Ludacris - repeat 2X] (Oh No!) I caught him with a blow to the chest (Oh No!) My hollow put a hole in his vest (Oh No!) I´m bout to send two to his dome (Oh No!) Cry babies go home! [Verse One: Ludacris] I got people scared as FUCK like when condoms break Or how your heart deals with eatin´ eighty pounds of steak So put your belly on a plate and watch your weight You frostin´ like a flake and Ludacris feels grrreat! Who want come face me, face come want who? And women give me face until they´re face turns blue They can´t breathe, dick to mouth recessatation A tight squeeze witch stops the length to conversations I Playstations, duck cops and lose agents I´m Doctor Love, I close curtains and fuck patients When I kick and rip and flip an indespensable rhyme My black ass is so hungry I´ll take a bite out of crime And it´ll hurt if I swallow, but even more if I choke Neighbors called the fire station off the blunt that I smoke You see I crush cowards, funerals I´ll send flowers And I´m on the overpass flick pennies at rush hour [Chorus] [Verse Two: Ludacris] You see I´m ambidextrous I slap ass with both hands Delete your first steps, but I´ll save the last dance I just bought some new guns my mama said "it ain´t worth it" But I´m at the shooting range just ´cause practice makes perfect Bullseye, I stunt growth and stop lives You run with niggas that´s more chicken then pot pies Bok bok bok I´m shakin your tale feathers I got big balls, I´m a SAC King like Chris Webber Luda´ will take you back to duck hunt and double dribble When niggas sold quarters and dimes and smoked nickels My cars got big TVs and satellites I got a Wheel of Fortune ´cause I flipped O´s like Vanna White And the servey says? (Kill a mutha fucka now) Could it be off with his head? (Or shoot a mutha fucka down) Ground round, ground chuck your ground beef Bullets gather round then I shoot rounds around teeth [Chorus] [Verse Three: Ludacris] I kick niggas in they´re ass reboot ´em like laptops And they wouldn´t even box if I gave ´em a flat top You punks pucker and pout, bicker and babble Now they all lost for words like I beat ´em in Scrabble You see I´m from a small town called "Fresh out a cop´s ass" Where Mr. Head-Potatoes are skinned they get mashed I smell puss from fifty yards Y´all not playin with full decks as if I jacked out ya Jacks and left fifty cards Catch me in Vegas spinnin´ the green I re-up with more chips than a vending machine Then you can catch me in Rome making some brauds and sticking ´em And you´ll be at home picking your bougars and flicking ´em A drug dealer´s dream, so fresh and I´m so clean I´m a grown ass man and you´re sweeter than sixteen So go and kick rocks peons you´re just rookies Headed down stairs to get you some milk and cookies [Chorus - 2X]

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