Cry Babies Lyrics by Ludacris

Cry Babies

[chorus: ludacris - repeat 2x]
[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 fuck 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, dick 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 fuck patients
When I kick and rip and flip an indespensable rhyme
My black ass 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

[chorus]

[verse two: ludacris]
You see Im ambidextrous I slap ass 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 niggas 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 niggas 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 fucka now]
Could it be off with his head? [or shoot a mutha fucka down]
Ground round, ground chuck your ground beef
Bullets gather round then I shoot rounds around teeth

[chorus]

[verse three: ludacris]
I kick niggas in theyre ass 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 ass"
Where mr. head-potatoes are skinned they get mashed
I smell puss from fifty yards
Y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 ass 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 - 2x]