Incognegro Album

Artist(s): Ludacris

Cover Art

Ludacris Incognegro Cover Art

Tracklist

Intro

length: 0:16

Yea, oh!
Check me out, look

It goes love, hate, pleasure and pain
Fo' albums in the can and I'm STILL in the game (what up?)
And last album, they don't like me to tell this
Debuted at number one and sold more records than Elvis (shut up!)
That's what they telling me, switch up your melody
Through with misdemeanors, they trying to give rappers felonies
So they can lock us up one at a time
But true writers stay free in every one of our lines
And if you not feeling I'm the cream of the crop
I'll knock rappers off your list 'til I get to the top!
Still you looking at a man that's financially stable
Only ***** getting checks cut from four different labels
That Pillsbury dough, women poke my guts
Still I walk around the streets like I'm broke as ****!
So if you see me in your town and I appear to be moody
It's cause I'm thinking 'bout plans that's bigger than Serena booty
Me and Shaka still starving and looking for meals
And heads up! Ludacris is almost out of his deal
I'm over ten million sold, every album is CRACK
And for now I'm bout to carry Def Jam on my BACK
Mad rappers I hear you talking way down at the bottom
Though I make big money, still handle small problems
The rambling at the mouth, I don't play that ****!
I'm the best and I ain't really got say that ****!

U Got a Problem?

length: 5:07
Yeah come see this *****
Come see this ol' light-skinned ************
I seen him and I'm addicted
He serving a piece of the click
Please tell dis fake *** *****s who you are

[Ludacris]
I be that ***** named Luda'
Alert Alert it's the ATLlien intruder
College Park waterboy, spitting in ya cooler
I jam till they deaf, they call me Slick **** Da Ruler
Women indeed, keep ya eyes closed
Bowl closed, come out them clothes hoe
Low pros, low bows, watch out for the po-po
And I chose, to be that number one contender, Southern offender
****ing up ya whole Agenda
When I walk you try to run
When I run you try to hide
You skated the snap of my finger
Call me Golden Gley
It's you and I, Do or Die, who am I?
I got a pocket full of family stones, cats think I'm sly
Why try, you one of them *****s that like to cheat death
And I'm one of them *****s that rip up Excursions
Til there is no seats left
You **** out weed checks and fart out deep breaths
While we talk dirt till the bottom of ya'll v-necks

Who, that ***** Chris?
Oh that ***** is alright
That ***** can't **** wit me thou
Let me get on the mic
*****, who the **** called you *****

[Ludacris]
I be dat ***** bronze Bridges
Players want to ball or go on strike cause of my pitches
They think I want they *****es
But I don't want no pigeons
Yet pigeons can scrub my dishes
And ya'll don't want no scrubs till ya'll pull out ya'll extensions
Ya'll in school detention that'll neva come out
Man I'll catch yo achilles tendon and put a sock in yo mouth
Cause we da **** in the South, they know what I'm talkin bout
You see we Jack and we Daniels, y'all Earl and Ralph
For I swerl it out, lick it dry and tend it to flames
Not even Joshua can come to +War+ wit dis +Games+
These ***** *****z is lame and come down wit da reigns
You all wet behind da ears but its a drought in ya brain
And dats tha simple and plain man
Three W Dot Shhhh
(Man dat dude Ludacris got dat hotter than hot shhh)
Well sh-sh-sh-shut da **** up
Before you get see you-see you-cut-cut da **** up

-Hold on man
Hold on lil buddy
Ya'll talkin bout shorty man
Shorty up at da radio station?
Shorty be poppin man?
Let the name be known
Who ya'll talkin bout

[Ludacris]
I be that ***** that love a lover
I'm asking if you think bout yo parents sex each other
No glove, no love, better tell yo **** to run for cover
So when lightening strikes, you can be safe from a few rubbers
If you know what I mean
Not everybody is Mr and Mrs. Clean
Some get burnt like Freddie Kruger, sweat dreams
Girls backing they *** up now they 400 degrees Ha
Hot girl, trying to give to *****z up on the block girl
Have you screaming "STOP GIRL"
I rock worlds with my 9 inch Louisville slugger
Still wonder why they call me lova lova
Self Explainatruim
*** Valedictorian
I bring 'em back to the future like a '85 Delorium
The Luda drug emporium
On the counter prescription
You like my diction
And my Doctor nurse convention
I put the stethoscope quite close to yo tittie
Have yo butt checks Red-man like Uncle Quilly

[Ludacris]
See me, see me ha ha ha
See E O
D T P
Infamous 2-0
Fate Forsta
4-ize
Shondrez on the beat
Playa circle
College park
Virgo *****, what what

Game Got Switched

length: 4:10
producer: Organized Noize
mixer: Mike Wilson
writer: Ludacris
Chorus:
I hate it when it's too many niggas
Not enough hoes
Too many rookies
Not enough pros
The game got switched on some Ludacris shit
So all y’all can suck my dick

I got em whip like miracle
Ludacris lyrical fool
We dirty south
Shut up yo mouth
We rock jewels
No holds barred
But obey the block rules
Cock tools put chlorine in record pools
Are there anymore like ya
Hell nah
I treat humans like students
Fail y’all
So turn your books to page 69 and start sucking
When organize drop the track and start ducking
When Ludacris get in the bed then start fucking
You wanna be starting somethin
Get out the booth and let me tell y’all the truth
We kick down doors
Save all the h20 for front rows
Live in the bank and watch what stank hoes
Stay chromed out
And that’s on or off road
If you know what I mean
Proceed to stay clean
Light skinned nigga turned red but get green
Inhale some of that dro but blow steam
Love a combination big ass and tight jeans

Chorus

Boy you done lost yo mind
Nah I lost my virginity
And I shot quick like that fool that shot Kennedy
What’s the remedy
Henessy coke
If you cut all yo money you still be half broke
Ashes to ashes
Smoke or get smoked
We come by the masses you come and get choked
Take me for a fool I’ll take you for a joke
Tired of fast food so they cooked up dope
So now we eating lobster shrimp and thangs
And watch for imposters that’s been in the game
We invented the game
And y’all just got hipped
Man what that smell
Probably you’re upper lip
Cause I love to walk around like my shit don’t stank
Even if its cigars in that purple colored dank
Filling in the Gump wit no track of Tom Hanks
Go put this in your jaw like weeners and beef franks

Chorus

I put too much sugar in my Kool Aid
And party like a kid wit a high top fade
Arrive to a show and I’d like to get paid
Arrive to a ho and I’d like to get laid
Right up on my back like rugs and floor mats
I’m on the right page but what’s my format
I wave to the ocean cause I’m where shores at
And women go nuts just like my bosack
Did you know that
Man I’m the gift of change
Electric stove so give me the keys to the Range
Shagadelic beautiful but strange
Went to Magic City saw Nikki in blew flames
Rearrange
Same braud different night
Pass the E&J and let a nigga get right
The bomb threaten’ dude that’s on your same flight
The highlights that I live a high ass life

Chorus

1st & 10

length: 3:43
producer: Bangladesh
mixer: Mike Wilson
writer: Fate Wilson, I‐20, Ludacris
Click, click
Click, click
Yeah
Click, click
DTP *****!

I started with ten mack tens
And ten clips and ten pens
Got ten times richer in the span of ten years
***** I'm ten times two on a scale of one to ten
I'll battle ten crews with the strength of ten men

At nine, I was into crime, sex, and drugs
Pushin' an '89 Box Chevy sittin' on dubs
Nine thugs all ski masks, black suited with gloves
Break the imprinted chest with at least nine slugs

Man I ate eight clips with eight chicks
Watching eight flicks
You's 8-6 if you ate ***** with fake lips
I figure eight when my mind goes in circles
Did I do that or was it Mystikal and Urkel?

On to 7 AK 47, so what?
I got seven hoes stoppin' by at seven to ****
Then put seven in your chest seven days a week
And add a foot for good measure you'll be seven feet deep

It goes 10-9-8-7-6-5-4
3-2-murder 1 lyrics at your door
These DTP *****s come ready for war
So don't start the ****ing game
If you won't settle the score

I got six hoes distributing on six blocks
It's blistering from cops tryin' to stop these rocks from distributing
Six gun shots left
One pint of Vodka before this pimp will hit
It's street justice, now it's six hole in your casket

Give me a high five and I'll put that nine lower than your esophagus
Then smack you so hard that you have to come with 2Pacalypse
Five stars, twenty rims, five cars
I'd add more but I had to subtract one from five bars

I got four forty-fours on a rip on the floor
For you *****s talkin' ****
I'm fixin' to show you what for
I did four months in the bing instead of a hearst
Now it's DTP for life, dog for better or worse

I **** three best friends
Ran on all three the same game
In these streets I'm a murderer
I got three alias names
I'm three times insane
Three shots will cave your brain
On 3 fire and ready, **** back and aim

It goes 10-9-8-7-6-5-4
3-2-murder 1 lyrics at your door
These DTP *****s come ready for war
So don't start the ****ing game
If you won't settle the score

I'm packing two twenty-twos and twice the ammunition
But at Friday the 13th
What's up now superstition?
I'm a two timer with a couple of twins
Double jeopardy
With a pair of two deuces in the two seater Benz

I got one motto get dough till your gone
I got one main lady the rest of y'all is hoes
I'm numero uno with one more before I go
If you think I ain't the one ***** you too slow

And all you zero *** *****s ain't nothin' to me
Because I chop up O's, move dro', and chop keys
0-6 is my clique along with PC
Pretty Rick, Calil, V-Slim and Shondrez

It goes 1 to 10 and 10 to 1
Ludacris, Fake Feeze, and that ***** I-Twain
It goes 1 to 10 and 10 to 1
Ludacris, Fake Feeze, and that ***** I-Twain

It goes 10-9-8-7-6-5-4
3-2-murder 1 lyrics at your door
These DTP *****s come ready for war
So don't start the ****ing game
If you won't settle the score

It Wasn Us

length: 4:34
[Chorus: x2]
They want to know why I hit like that, spit like that,
**** like that, maybe because I get like that,
Kick like that, rip like that
They want to know why I rhyme like that, shine like that,
Climb like that, 'cause the world is mine like that
(Yours like that) mine like that

[Ludacris]
You can get your whole crews, even *****s that owe you
They ain't paid you **** you can drink some cold brew
And throw on them old shoes and jump in the whip
You can come and find us, be right behind us and insert the clip
You hear something that went "clack" "clack" "clack"
Somebody went down but it wasn't us
You can settle 'bout two meals get hooked up with a good deal
Start stackin' dough you can ride your mobile
Get 20 inch big wheels and collect some hoes
You can even start eatin' good and smokin' good
But you pressin' your luck and you say wha'
Somebody went bankrupt **** but it wasn't us

[Chorus]

[Ludacris]
You can go to the drawing board just start from scratch
All over again clean
Or you can tell a bunch of officers that I'm the one to catch
But my *****s is the police
You can try to blame me or even try to frame me but I'll make bail now
Somebody goin' to jail **** but it wasn't us
You do track after track, and walls get plaque after plaque
CD's on rack after rack no more selling sac' after sac'
You could've had that good life, good kids and a good wife
It was yours to earn but the records stores gettin' returns
**** but it wasn't us

[Chorus]

[Ludacris]
You could be
Going on worldwide tours and see your face on every magazine
Or you can flip to channel after channel
And see that *** on the TV screen
You can pay for expensive videos
And have whole lot of big bootie hoes
But when the **** start coming to a close
**** but it wasn't us
You can use your back-up plan, even call him your back-up man
And start thinking quick
You can call on your back-up hoes, even call the back-up pros
And tell 'em to suck a ****
And you tell just to get these
And you tell just to pay the fees
And to pay their dues, and they catching those STD's
**** but it wasn't us

[Chorus: x2]

Come On Over

length: 1:03
Girl we might has well see what’s up wit these niggas
(ring....2020--)hello..
(girl)hello
Yeah what’s u. oh oh what’s up..(hey)yo this is 20/20..hey hey cris ris..soask
Em if they comin ova)oh ok--yea yea so what’s up man so what’s up are y’all gonna
Come through or not?
Yea we comein through there
Alright not so bad..let me go on and tell you how to get here..you ready?
(girl) yea
(guy)... ok you go aww shi...le-le let me let cris tell ya hold on hold on
(girl)..alright
Cris..hella
Girl..yea
Cris...yea ok you go umm 85 south (ok) you gonna get off old national highway,
Make a left, your gonna come all the way down till you get to creole road make
A right on creole (ok) and you just gonna keep comin down you gonna see this
Big ass white mansion on the right hand side (word) hell yea there gonna be a
Convertable jag in the driveway (what) range rover all black hell yea (shit
Now)we like right next door and shit in this hud house yea the door kinda
Fucked up so your gonna have to uh climb through the window is that cool?
(girl)what the fuck! hell na nigga

Hood Stuck

length: 4:26
[Chorus]
Eastside, eastside ***** what?
(Eastside, eastside ***** what?)
I'm talk bout the Westside, westside ***** what?
(Westside, westside ***** what?)
Northside, northside ***** what?
(Northside, northside ***** what?)
Southside, southside ***** what?
(Southside, southside ***** what?)

Good luck, time to get hood stuck
Caldasac trap, Mr. Good Stuff
Ludacris give me 20 push-ups
Last summer, got the hook up
You know what I did
Who'd ever thought up they grew up on one of the BeBe Kids
Type of rat, sat on my ***
And fiendin' for cash
Almost got signed with Puff Puff, but I think I'll pass
Now what we got 'round here is a 20-20 twins
and whats up in my hand, is a bottle of Gin
I love women so I'm in it to win it
In it to green
In it to get in it and get in it again
You got two booties so you whipping yo chin
And I don't blame you
I lay in the sand, y'all lay in the snow and make angels
My ice piece dangle
make my chest look older
Touch it and fall apart like yo High school folder
I'ma Trojan man, BHS hall supplier
Shady park resident and southside Rider

[Chorus]

Get back, time to get hood jacked
Gold chain, took that
World of Ghetto fabulous Dopeboys and Hoodrats
Be careful what you look at
cause you looking to long
You might go blind in my briefs cause my **** is too long
I'm getting nutt while I'm singin this song
and there is enough for everybody in da party
while y'all hitting th bong
But y'all be hitting my schlong
you play the flute quite nicely
When teeth interrupt, you can watch as I get fiesty
Oh no, you suckers didn't request back up
Broads I seem to rack up
When I pull the gold actor
Get slapped up
Drove up the wall
Put it in Reverse
you can hope for the best, but expect the worst
You at a place like some D's on a Hurst
Its quite funny
Phat Rabbit, playboy bunny
It seems as if that's what I need
Filthy south and D's
That's why I roll in from the Southside breeze
Give it to me now

[Chorus]

Your pick time to get hood sick
Hit'em wit a good lick
Clean out yo house from the couch to the toothpick
EastSide Ruthless
WestSide leave 'em clueless
My Northside mackers got dis broads acting foolish
And do this for a living
while you stuck up in yo cubicle
Nightlife running dis streets, it sounds beautiful
Women break a cuticle
Ballas break bread
Southside, I represent it till I'm dead
What what

[Chorus: x2]

Get Off Me

length: 2:46
producer: Jermaine Dupri
performer: Pastor Troy
mixer: Mike Wilson
writer: Pastor Troy, Ludacris
What (what), what (what), what (what), what (what)
I (I), I (I), I (I), I (I)
OK, come on, what

[Ludacris & Pastor Troy]
What (what), what (what), what (what), what (what)
Oh (oh), oh (oh), oh (oh), oh (oh)

[Chorus: x2]
Get off me, but I'm on you all day
Get off me, I don't think you wanna play

You wanna rush me, you can't touch me, trust me
Cause you way too dusty, and rusty, and musty
You better shop that make you pop up from lock up
But you tell your folks to hold you're jack up to back up (to back up)
I'm ready, so sit down or go ta' your room
It ain't nothing
A a watch out watch out, boom
Call me the hit man, cause I make you wanna call time-out
Then I make your mom cry-out, when I take your whole spine out
Then watch me take ya, and fake ya, and shake ya, and break ya
And see you on home to your maker
You should give up now for talking **** like that
But then you nothing, you garbage you better watch ya' back

[Chorus]

(OK, OK now)
Now it's the Pastor, shook 'em, showing my moves
I'm in that 2000 excursion
Riding on 22's, I hear the boom
But booms just get me more crunk
It's the DSGB forever
Riding on pump
I stunk, or did I say stunk, I meant stank
I think I'll take it please, or in another coffee break
You ain't, but you can pretend to be homey
I'm stiff arming these busters just as soon they get on me

[Chorus: x2]

Mouthing Off

length: 3:01
producer: Ludacris
mixer: Mike Wilson
writer: 4-ize, Ludacris
Yeah, hah,
When it all come down to it we ain't have ****!
(Woo! Use your mouth, haha)
Ludacris, 4-Ize, it's like this

I make *****z eat dirt and fart dust
Then give you a eighty dollar gift certificate to Pussies 'R Us
I eat the whole pie, and leave nothing but the crust
So you can feel what it's like, with instinct but no guts
A sac wit no nuts or a mack wit no sluts
Give me a full-body massage, I still can't be touched
They call me Seymour Butts, cause I get mo' *** than most
They say I'm next and got that butter love, and get too close
Follow the leader cause I'm meaner than medulla oblongota
My Tribe's on more Quests than Midnight Marauders
It's all pina coladas, no cops and robbers
Taking trips back and forth from here to the Bahamas
I hump more than llamas, get rolled more than tires
If you say I'm not nice, then you'se a **********ing liar
Entitled to your Opini-ons, into the next millennium
So many Major Coins that I thought I had a million

4-Ize, 4-Ize whatcha? 4-Ize

Yo, I am going to blow up the Earth
With my "pew-36 explosive space modulator"
Buddha be praised, you meditator
Drop squad interrogator, 85 percent regulator
The Educator and the Almighty Creator, dedicator
The separator of fiction, I spark friction
Smoking "Hay" without the Crucial Confliction
4-Ize prescription; microphone, Jackie Stallone
Psychic prediction, Egyptian description
Of my psychical, my flesh is weak and it's pitiful
Spiritual is hooked up to the invisible
Umbilical cord of my Lord, Kumbiya Devine Kah
Remove paper of tar from every cigar
I slap authority like Gabor, Zsa Zsa
Half Allah, Half Anti Christ Superstar
Rocking the microphone with a hand like Dr. Claw
While I'm hitting trees, harder than Sonny Bono
Double Dragon, mixed up with an Abobo
I kill villains in slow-mo for talking crazy in my Dojo
Got nothing to lose, like I'm a boxcar hobo
When I get Ludacris with bridges on the promo
*****s wanna clown, I'm Homey and Bozo
Cause in the grand prize game my life calling like Jo-Jo
The name sticks like Toto
I keep it realer than alien autopsy photo
You similar to a Spice Girl going solo
You lost like BEBE, or a dog named Toto
My statue of liberty is Rebecca Lobo
We Cop Robo, virgo
Bust *** like a **********ing homo, como estas?
Tony Del Negro
Built to destroy these kid's blocks of Legos
Lego my Eggo cause I say so
Hold the microphone, 4-Ize, I stay gifted
Manifested, elevated, I uplifted
The elevator, the escalator
"That's not a knife? That's a knife!"
Crocodile Dundee the Alligator Rustler
Cause I hustle ya, under the China
Big Trouble, little sewer but still I find ya
Cause I'm stinky
Manifest, throw you down the stairs like a slinky
Yo, my third eye is blinky

Midnight Train

length: 4:53
Ooh, hey yeah
Do you know how to leave, do you want to ride...ride

Ya see, it started off in St. Paul from the street of Old Nash
And it feels so good to escape and just kick it and laugh
My clan had to bring the ruckus cause we had the cream
All you can eat over at Ryan's or some fish at Gaseen's
And I had to fix a goodie bag and make decisions and haste
'Cause soul food ain't the **********in' thang to waste
So let's get looney up on the set cause I got five on the fire
Will slide to East Point and make our way to Black Rirer

Lookin' like Outkast on the spot smokin' blunts and
Hit the liquor store got up, got out and got something
That eightball, so I can do some space age pimpin'
My blood stay young off 45's Colt and chicken
Camels and Rolls filled with d's and Vogues
And playas mackin' them hoes, in dyke clothes
Comin' up slammin' Caddy doors
In Southwest, we'll take it to yo chest
And we got it locked like some *****s on house arrest
Cause we ridin'

[Chorus: ]
Ridin' on that midnight train to Georgia, riiide
Ridin' on that midnight train to Georgia, riiide

It's just one of those days when I can kick it like this and like that
It's a free day, my folks got rowdy way back
I right off of Cascade or Ralph David Abernathy
I shall proceed and continue to keep my roots nappy
'Cause afros in all seasons, they keep me warm
Some livin' that thug life so how long will they mourn
I still ride, that's why I bounce my way to bank-bed
I'm so bad that I'll knock you out, that's what my mama said

Sippin' on brandy, sunny days with my best friends
Today you see and then you cruise through the West end
They should've said it was Six Flags Over Georgia
Then underground, my Tuesdays would be packed when I got older
If I told you one, I told ya *** a thousand times
I got em' all in check, when it comes to bustin' rhymes
Don't sweat the technique cause I just move the crowd
My mob's deep of alcoholics, people label us loud because we ride

[Chorus]

See I felt my bones jump as I crossed the road
I heard the squad was wiped up, so I flipped my mode
On my way to d-e-cee, baby can't you see
That Decatur is totally to be b-i-g for thee
Lost Boyz ridin' around in Jeeps, Lex Luth's, and Beamers
Yo cars get scooped just like Regina carpet cleaners
It's Stone Mountain Cats puttin' it down
They played Kurupt so I just gave all my dogs a pound

Now my conflict was crucial off some hay I smoked
I should be gettin' it, 'cause life is too got damn short
And now my mind's playin' tricks and my boys actin' ghetto
Back to the see-P, I put the pedal to the metal
God bless the child that's just got his own
Since I was a juvenile makin' cash money at home
I'm from a boy to a man, I've reached the end of my road
It's Ludacris signin' off till the next episode, let's ride

[Chorus]

Where all the pimps and the playas just dwell
We get the cash and the *** then bail
We leave a trace but never leave a trail
Say it again
'Cause it's the A-T-L
Where all the pimps and the playas just dwell
We get the cash and the *** then bail
We leave a trace but never leave a trail

Ho (skit)

length: 0:43
mixer: Mike Wilson
[Chorus: x2]
Ho (Ho)
You'sa Ho (Ho)
You'sa Ho (Ho)
I said that you'sa ho (Ho)

You doing ho activities
With ho tendencies
Hos are your friends, hoes are your enemies
With ho energy to do what ya do
Blew what ya blew
Screw what ya screw
Y'all professional like DJ Clue, pulling on my coat tail
An why do you think you take a ho to a hotel?
Hotel everybody, even the mayor
Reach up in the sky for the ho-zone layer
Come on player once a ho always
And hos never close they open like hallways
An here's a ho cake for you whole ho crew
An everybody wants some cause hoes gotta eat too

[Chorus: x2]

Cant turn a ho into a housewife
Hos don't act right
There's hos on a mission, an hoes on a crack-pipe
Hey ho how ya doing, where ya been?
Probably doing ho stuff cause there you ho again
Its a ho wide world, that we living in
Feline, feminine, fantastical, women
Not all, just some
You ho who you are
There's hoes in the room, there's hoes in the car
There's hoes on stage, there's hoes by the bar
Hos by near, an hos by far
Ho! (But can I get a ride?)
NO! (C'mon, ***** why?)
Cause you'sa

[Chorus]

You gotta run in your pantyhose
Even your daddy knows
That you sucking down chocolate like daddy-o's
You hos are horrible, horrendous
On taxes y'all writing off hos as dependents
I see the ho rising
It ain't surprising
Its just a ho-asis
With ugly chicks faces
But hos don't feel so sad and blue
Cause most of us *****s is hos too

[Chorus]

(Ho)
************s I'm so tired of y'all *****s always talking
Bout hos this, hos that, you the **********ing ho *****
I wasn't no ho last night

(Pimp)
Ho, bring yo ***!

(Ho)
OK, hold on

Ho

length: 2:51
producer: Bangladesh
mixer: Mike Wilson
writer: Ludacris

Chorus:
Hoeeeeee (Hoe)
You's a Hoeee (Hoe)
You's a Hoe, I said that you's a Hoe (Hoe)
You's a Hoe (Hoe)
You's a Hoe (Hoe)
You's a Hoe, I said that you's a Hoe (Hoe)

You doing Hoe activity
With Hoe tendencies
Hoes are your friends, Hoes are your enemies
With hoe energy to do what you do
Blew what cha blew, screw what cha screw
Ya'll professional like DJ Clue
You pulling on my coat tail
Now why you think you take a Hoe to a Hoe-tel
Hoe -tell everybody, even the mayor
Reach up in the sky for the Hoe-zone layer
C'mon playa wants to Hoe our ways
Them Hoes neva close, they open like hallways
So here's the Hoe take for your Hoe Hoe crew
And everybody wants some, cuz Hoes gotta eat too

Chorus

You can't turn a Hoe into a house wife
Hoes don't act right
There's Hoe on a mission and there's hoes on a crack pipe
Hey Hoe, How you doin' Where you been?
Prolly doing Hoe stuff Cuz there you Hoe again
It's a How wide world, (uh huh)that we livin' in
Feline feminine fantastical women
Not all, just some
You How who you are
There's Hoes in the room, there's Hoes in the car
There's Hoes on stage, there's Hoes by the bar
Hoe's by near and Hoes by far

Hoe
But can i get a ride?
No
C'mon nigga why?
Cuz you's a

Chorus

You got a run in your panty-Hoes
Even your daddy knows
that you sucking down chocolate like daddy-os
Your Hoes are horrible, horendous
On taxes ya'll writin' off, Hoes is dependents
I see the Hoe-rizon, It ain't surprising
It's just a Hoe-asis, with ugly chiks faces
Hoes don't feel so sad and blue
Cuz most of us niggas is Hoes too

Chorus
(You's a Hoe)
(Muthafucka, I ain's no Hoe)
(Yo mama a ho!)

(Mutha fuckas,
I'm so tired Of ya'll niggas always talkin about hoe this and Hoe that)
(You the muthafuckin Hoe nigga)
(I wasn't no Hoe last night)

Tickets Sold Out (skit)

length: 0:33
mixer: Mike Wilson
This Friday performing live
At the Civic Center
You heard him on fat rabbit wit Timberland
I be that named Luda a.k.a. l o v a
You heard him wit Jermaine Dupri on Sony Playstation's John Matten 2000
Now see him perform live at the Civic Center
For three shows only
It's Ludacris
Tickets for the first show are not available
Because it's sold out
Tickets for the second show are not available
You got it right sold out
And tickets for the third and final show have been sold out
So hold up what the fuck am I doing this shit for

Catch Up

length: 4:15
producer: Fate Wilson and Ludacris
mixer: Mike Wilson
writer: Ludacris
[Chorus]
All this drinking going catch up
And all this smoking going catch up
But some *****s just really don't give a ****
But some *****s just really don't give a ****
And all this drinking going catch up
And all this smoking going catch up
But some *****es just really don't give a ****
But some *****es just really don't give a ****

Now let me be quite Frank
Cause I'm that crazy ***** Luda
Always got a drink
And I'm steady smoking buddah
I do the
Evil that'll bend you when I get you
I'ma sit you down
Then take it to the mental and essential and clown
Every chance I get
***** I'm hit
Not by no bullet or no pellet
But the smoke from the can a beer ****
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'ma rock, roll, shake, and shiver
With some blacked out lungs and a ****ed up liver

[Chorus]

Hey yo I do this for bluntheads and whinos
Steward Ave. Homes
*****s from G-Ro committed to slanging blow
Doublin' dough 24-7
**** po-po's I'm blowin' dro out the Ac Legend
Running 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
****ed up off head shots
Sippin' Courvousier watchin' hoes drop it like it's hot
Shaking **** and twats
Placing big face 20's and ****
Loading clips and glocks
Knowing we got the haters hot
The ballin' don't stop
Just drop more G's on drink and drugs
Live it up young ***** cause it's gon' catch up

[Chorus]

Now wit the help of Hen and Coke
I grab my pen and pad and wrote
Something that I knew was dope
And represent for my kinfolk
Pimp a hoe until she broke
Wit mo lines than chopped coke
Hey yo it's 2-0 I'm Eastside's King
But I'm a writer with a twist of Amaretto
My **** even come out better
Grab a blunt put it together
What a ***** really need
Run up in the club and blow a ************ 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 weed
Believe me it catch up

[Chorus]

Git it right
Ludacris, F.A.T.E. Fullster, Infamous 2-0, ATL
We are the dirty south's dirtiest.
Disturbing the peace.

Hey bring on the *****es!

What’s Your Fantasy

length: 4:36
mixer: Mike Wilson
writer: Bangladesh, Ludacris
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Give it to me now, give it to me now
Give it to me now, give it to me now

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Give it to me now, give it to me now
Give it to me now

I wanna, lick you from yo' head to yo' toes
And I wanna, move from the bed down to the down to the to the flow
Then I wanna, you make it so good I don't wanna leave
But I gotta, know what-what's your fantasy

I wanna, lick you from yo' head to yo' toes
And I wanna, move from the bed down to the down to the to the flow
Then I wanna, you make it so good I don't wanna leave
But I gotta, know what-what's your fantasy

I wanna get you in the Georgia Dome on the fifty yard line
While the Dirty Birds kick for tree
And if you like in the club we can do it
In the DJ booth or in the back of the V.I.P.
Whipped cream with cherries and strawberries on top, lick it don't stop
Keep the door locked don't knock while the boat rock
We go-bots and robots so they gotta wait til the show stop
Or how 'bout on the beach with black sand
Lick up your thigh then call me the Pac Man
Table top or just give me a lap dance
The Rock to the Park to the Point to the Flatlands
That man Ludacris (woo) in the public bathroom
Or in back of a classroom
How ever you want it lover lover gonna tap that *** soon
See I cast 'em and I past 'em get a tight grip and I grasp 'em
I flash 'em and out last 'em
And if ain't good then I trash 'em while you stash 'em
I'll let 'em free
And the tell me what they fantasy
Like up on the roof roof tell yo boyfriend not to be mad at me

I wanna, lick you from yo' head to yo' toes
And I wanna, move from the bed down to the down to the to the flow
Then I wanna, you make it so good I don't wanna leave
But I gotta, know what-what's your fantasy

I wanna, lick you from yo' head to yo' toes
And I wanna, move from the bed down to the down to the to the flow
Then I wanna, you make it so good I don't wanna leave
But I gotta, know what-what's your fantasy

I wanna get you in the bath tub
With the candle lit you give it up till they go out
Or we can do it on stage of the Ludacris concert
Cause you know I got sold out
Or red carpet **** could just roll out
Go 'head and scream you can't hold out
We can do it in the pouring rain
Running the train when it's hot or cold out
How 'bout in the library on top of books
But you can't be too loud
You wanna make a brother beg for it
Give me TLC 'cause you know I be too proud
We can do it in the white house
Trying t make them turn the lights out
Champagne with my campaign let me do the damn thing
What's my name, what's my name, what's my name a sauna, jacuzzi
In the back row at the movie
You can scratch my back and rule me
You can push me or just pull me
On hay in middle of the barn (woo) rose pedals on the silk sheets uh
Eating fresh fruits sweep yo woman right off her feet

I wanna, lick you from yo' head to yo' toes
And I wanna, move from the bed down to the down to the to the flow
Then I wanna, you make it so good I don't wanna leave
But I gotta, know what-what's your fantasy

I wanna, lick you from yo' head to yo' toes
And I wanna, move from the bed down to the down to the to the flow
Then I wanna, you make it so good I don't wanna leave
But I gotta, know what-what's your fantasy

I wanna get you in the back seat windows up
That's the way you like to ****, clogged up fog alert
Rip the pants and rip the shirt, ruff sex make it hurt
In the garden all in the dirt
Roll around Georgia Brown that's the way I like it twerk
Legs jerk, overworked, underpaid but don't be afraid
In the sun or up in the shade
On the top of my escalade
Maybe your girl and my friend can trade; tag team, off the ropes!
On the ocean or in the boat! Factories or on hundred spokes!
What about up in the candy sto' that chocolate chocolate make it melt
Whips and chains, handcuffs, smack a little booty up with my belt
Scream help play my game, dracula man I'll get my fangs
Horseback and I'll get my reigns, school teacher let me get my brains

I wanna, lick you from yo' head to yo' toes
And I wanna, move from the bed down to the down to the to the flow
Then I wanna, you make it so good I don't wanna leave
But I gotta, know what-what's your fantasy

I wanna, lick you from yo' head to yo' toes
And I wanna, move from the bed down to the down to the to the flow
Then I wanna, you make it so good I don't wanna leave
But I gotta, know what-what's your fantasy

I wanna, lick you from yo' head to yo' toes
And I wanna, move from the bed down to the down to the to the flow
Then I wanna, you make it so good I don't wanna leave
But I gotta, know what-what's your fantasy

I wanna, lick you from yo' head to yo' toes
And I wanna, move from the bed down to the down to the to the flow
Then I wanna, you make it so good I don't wanna leave
But I gotta, know what-what's your fantasy

Rock and a Hard Place

length: 4:21
Hell yeah...
It's an everyday struggle
Tryin' to get out, tryin' to get out, tryin' to make it
Check this out nigga, what

[Hook]
I'm stuck in between a rock and a hard place
Bad luck is what results from my paper chase
I keep lookin' but it ain't no doors
So I don't wanna look no mo', what
I'm stuck in between a rock and a hard place
Bad luck is what results from my paper chase
I keep lookin' but it ain't no doors
So I don't wanna look no mo', what

[Verse 1]
I need to get away to another day or place and time
And find where reality can ease my mind
And shine on me like the sun to the Earth
For what it's worth, my turf is rough and rugged so I gave birth
To a dream where cream lies between
All the dirt and the gravel so I battle to achieve my green
And still try to move forward at a steady pace
Cause bad luck is interferin' with my paper chase
So I erase the crime lies and sad cries
With sore eyes and keep mine's on an uprise
But it don't work cause I'm steady gettin' jerked
By my neighborhood, up to no good, where bad niggas lurk
They urk me, leavin' effects that's too negative
So Ludacris is lookin' for a better place to live
And I can't stand it, it's really got me buggin'
It's like I'm in a war and I just keep on tuggin'
Cause I'm

[Hook]

[Verse 2]
I try to find a way outta this maze, it's got me crazed
I'm in a daze, so many ways to boost into a different phase
But I can't thank, I can't do nothin', you think I'm frontin'
You hear me gruntin' Lord, you ain't even sayin' nothin'
I need some currency before there's an emergency
Forget crimes, I won't let my mind get the best of me
It's not gon' happen, I'm trapped in two worlds
On one side I see diamonds, on the other I see pearls
It's a whirlwind disaster with two damn sides
So I'm gone with the wind then come right back with the tide
I keep my eyes on the skies and my head in the clouds
And when my mouth is shut up, it makes my thoughts get loud
Just like a crowd in a stadium, bills I be cravin' em'
Money makin' schemes locked up in my cranium
Cause I need outta this critical situation
My mind's in jail, I don't know the time that it's facin'
Cause I'm

[Hook]

[Verse 3]
I'm sick of knockin', I'm sick of clockin'
I'm sick of droppin' in a hole, never reachin' my goal
It's got my soul separated into pieces, it just increases
I'm hit with anger like a cook is hit with hot greases
So if you understood my attitude
Maybe you'd feel what I'm feelin'
And it'd start appealin'
To ya intellect and aspect of dreams and aspirations
Deaf by temptations, even got my hart pacin'
So I'm tracin' a line where I can find a better path
And make it last, sit back and laugh before the aftermath
The tragic flaw is what makes it raw
So let it thaw and I'll get through it even if I have to crawl
My way, I see the sun and there's no delay
I'ma pray, cause the Lord'll make a brighter day
Or will he keep me in this holding cell
But enough with the questions, the only story to tell is that I'm

[Hook]