Rap-a-Lot Records - Catch Up lyrics

(Chorus) All this drinking gon catch up And all this smoking gon catch up But some n***as just really don't give a f** Some n***as just really don't give a f** And all this drinking gon catch up And all this smoking gon catch up But some b**hes just really don't give a f** Some b**hes just really don't give a f** (Ludacris) Now let me be quite Frank Cause I'm that crazy n***a Luda Always got a drink And I'm steady smoking buddah I do the Evil that men do when I get you I'mma sit you down Then take it to the mental's essential and clown Every chance I get b**h I'm hit Not by no bullet or no pellet But the smoke from the can a beer sh** 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'mma rock, roll, shake, and shiver With some blacked out lungs and a f**ed up liver Chorus (Infamous 2-0) Ey yo I do this for bluntheads and whinos Stewart Ave. hoes n***as from G-Ro committed to slanging blo Doublin' dough 24-7 f** po-po's I'm blowin' dro out the Ac Legend Runnin 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 f**ed up off head shots Sippin' Courvousier watchin' hoes drop it like it's Hot Shaking tits and twats Placing big face 20's and co*k Loading clips and Glocks Knowing we got the haters hot The ballin' don't stop Just drop more G's on drink and d** Live it up young n***a since it's gon' catch up Chorus (F.A.T.E.) Now wit the help of Hen and Coke I grab my pad and pen and wrote Something that I knew was dope And represent for my kinfolk Pimp a ho until she broke Wit mo lines than chopped coke Ey yo it's 2-0 I'm Eastside's King But I'm a writer with a twist of Amaretta My sh** even come out better Grab a blunt put it together What a n***a really need Run up in the club and blow a motherf**er 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 (F.A.T.E.) Git it right Ludacris, F.A.T.E. Fullster, Infamous 2-0, ATL We are the dirty south's dirtiest. Disturbing the peace (White guy) Hey bring on the b**hes!!