Catch Up lyrics

[Chorus: Ludacris]
All this drinking gon' catch up
And all this smoking gon' catch up
But some n*ggas just really don't give a f*ck
Some n*ggas just really don't give a f*ck
And all this drinking gon' catch up
And all this smoking gon' catch up
But some b*tches just really don't give a f*ck
Some b*tches just really don't give a f*ck

[Verse 1: Ludacris]
Now let me be quite frank
'Cause I'm that crazy n*gga Luda
Always got a drink
And I'm steady smoking buddah
I do the
Evil that men do when I get you
I'ma sit you down
Then take it to the mental's essential and clown
Every chance I get
b*tch I'm hit
Not by no bullet or no pellet
But the smoke from the canna-bi-as, shiyat
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 f*cked up liver
[Chorus: Ludacris]
All this drinking gon' catch up
And all this smoking gon' catch up
But some n*ggas just really don't give a f*ck
Some n*ggas just really don't give a f*ck
And all this drinking gon' catch up
And all this smoking gon' catch up
But some b*tches just really don't give a f*ck
Some b*tches just really don't give a f*ck

[Verse 2: Fate Wilson]
Ayo, I do this for bluntheads and whinos
Stewart Ave. hoes
n*ggas from G-Ro committed to slanging blo
Doublin' dough 24-7
f*ck 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*cked up off headshots
Sippin' Courvousier watchin' hoes drop it like it's Hot
Shaking tits and twats
Placing big face 20's and c*ck
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 n*gga since it's gon' catch up
[Chorus: Ludacris]
All this drinking gon' catch up
And all this smoking gon' catch up
But some n*ggas just really don't give a f*ck
Some n*ggas just really don't give a f*ck
And all this drinking gon' catch up
And all this smoking gon' catch up
But some b*tches just really don't give a f*ck
Some b*tches just really don't give a f*ck

[Verse 3: I-20]
Now with 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*t even come out better
Grab a blunt put it together
What a n*gga really need
Run up in the club and blow a motherf*cker 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 Tauheed 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: Ludacris]
All this drinking gon' catch up
And all this smoking gon' catch up
But some n*ggas just really don't give a f*ck
Some n*ggas just really don't give a f*ck
And all this drinking gon' catch up
And all this smoking gon' catch up
But some b*tches just really don't give a f*ck
Some b*tches just really don't give a f*ck

[Outro: I-20 & Man]
Get it right
Ludacris, F.A.T.E. Fullster, Infamous 2-0, ATL
We are the dirty south's dirtiest
Disturbing tha Peace
Hey bring on the b*tches