Who Sang Cry Babies? Ludacris

Ludacris Word of Mouf cover art
Release information
Release Date: 2001-11-6
Genre: Hip Hop
Style: Gangsta/Bass Music/Bounce/Hardcore Hip-Hop
length: 5:59
[Chorus: x 2]
(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 **** 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, **** 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 **** patients
When I kick and rip and flip an indespensable rhyme
My black *** 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


[Verse Two: Ludacris]
You see I'm ambidextrous I slap *** 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 perferct

Bullseye, I stunt growth and stop lives
You run with *****s 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 *****s 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 ****a now)
Could it be off with his head? (Or shoot a mutha ****a down)
Ground round, ground chuck your ground beef
Bullets gather round then I shoot rounds around teeth


[Verse Three: Ludacris]
I kick *****s in they're *** 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 ***"
Where Mr. Head-Potatoes are skinned they get mashed
I smell puss from fifty yards
Why'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 maggots in 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 *** 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: x 2]

  • 1 Coming to America
  • 2 Roll Out (My Business)
  • 3 Go to Sleep
  • 4 Cry Babies
  • 5 She Said
  • 6 HoWhere (Skit)
  • 7 Area Codes
  • 8 Growing Pains
  • 9 Greatest Hits
  • 10 Move Bitch
  • 11 Stop Lying (Skit)
  • 12 Saturday
  • 13 Keep It on the Hush
  • 14 Word of Mouf (Freestyle)
  • 15 Get the Fuck Back
  • 16 Freaky Thangs
  • 17 Cold Outside

  • Release information
    country(area): United States
    script: Latin