เนื้อเพลง Move B*tch - Ludacris
เนื้อเพลง Move B*tch
[whistling]
[Chorus 2x: Ludacris]
Move B*tch, get out the way
Get out the way b*tch, get out the way
Move b*tch, get out the way
Get out the way b*tch, get out the way
[Ludacris]
Oh no! The fight's out
I'ma 'bout to punch yo...lights out
Get the f*ck back, guard ya grill
There's somethin' wrong, we can't stay still
I've been drankin' and bustin' two
and I been thankin' of bustin' you
Upside ya motherf*ckin' forehead
And if your friends jump in, "Ohhh gurrlll", they'll be mo' dead
Causin' confusion, Disturbin Tha Peace
Since not into lution', we run in the streets
So bye-bye to all you groupies and golddiggers
Is there a bumber on your ass? No n*gga!
I'm doin' a hundred on the highway
So if you do the speed limit, get the f*ck outta my way
I'm D.U.I., hardly ever caught sober
and you about to get ran the f*ck over
[Chorus]
[Mystikal over second chorus]
b*tch watch out, watch out, watch
b*tch watch out, watch out, watch out, move
Here I come, there I go
UH OH! Don't jump b*tch, move
You see them headlights? You hear that f*cking crowd?
Start that goddamn show, I'm comin' through
Hit the stage and knock the girlies down
I'm gonna eat the crowd up - that's what I do
Young and successful - a sex symbol
The b*tches want me to f*ck - true true
Hold up wait up, shorty
"Oh wazzzupp, get my d*ck s*cked, what are yoouu doin'?"
Sidelinin' my paper route' bussiness
Tryin' to get my paper, child support soon
Give me that truck and take that rental back
Who bought these b*tchn' T.V.'s and jewelry b*tch, tell me that?
No, I ain't bitter, I don't give a f*ck
But i'ma tell you like this b*tch
You better not walk in front of my tour bus
[Chorus]
[I-20 over second chorus]
Bring it, get 'em
Too bad I'm on the right track
Beef, got the right mack
Hit the trunk, grab the pump pump, I'll be right back
We buyin' bars out, showin' scars out
We heard there's hoes out, so we brought the cars out
Grab the peels cuz we robbin' tonight
Beat the sh*t outta security, we startin a fight
I got a fifth of the remy, f*ck the Belve and 'cris
I'm sellin' sh*t up in the club like I work in the b*tch
F*ck the dress codes, it's street clothes, we all street n*ggaz
We on the dance floor, throwin' bows, beatin' up n*ggaz
I'm from the D.E.C., tryin' to disrespect D.T.P.
And watch the bottles start flyin' from the V.I.P.
F*ck this rap sh*t, we clap b*tch, two in your body
Grab ya four, start a fight dog, ruin the party
So move b*tch, get out the way hoe
All you faggot motherf*ckers make way for 2-0
So...
[Chorus]
[whistling]