Pocketbook (feat. Ludacris)

Give it to me

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook

Say it again? Oh

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook

Check this out here

Lookin' at my body, I bet you're thinkin' 'bout it

Don't you wanna know how I get down? (Uh-huh)

Take a number, baby

You ain't the only brother tryna get up under my skirt now

(Uh-huh)

Rockin' all your hot shit, stuntin'

Thinkin' that your God's gift to woman

More like a buzz in my ear piece

Shoo fly, don't bother me

I got my hair in a ponytail

And they on me

Trust me, I can get 'em off

They say I stride like a model

Curves like a bottle

Watch me as I hit the wall

And I make em' say

Ooh-ahh, ooh-ahh, ooh

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook

Ooh-ahh, ooh-ahh, ooh

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook

Ooh-ahh, ooh-ahh, ooh

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook

Ooh-ahh, ooh-ahh, ooh

D-d-d-d-don't make me (Oh)

Tell ya baby daddy he ain't holdin' no weight

Cause he gots cake and no knife (Knife)

Ain't nobody cuttin'

So cut it out, cut it out, alright?

So you don't know my face now, got it?

Lookin' at me from the waist down, stop it

Said I'm hot pill to swallow, fella

But I can make you feel better

I got my hair in a ponytail

And they on me

Trust me, I can get 'em off

They say I stride like a model

Curves like a bottle

Watch me as I hit the wall

And I make em' say

Ooh-ahh, ooh-ahh, ooh

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook

Ooh-ahh, ooh-ahh, ooh (Hey)

Don't make me hit you with my, uh

Ooh-ahh, ooh-ahh, ooh

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook

Ooh-ahh, ooh-ahh, ooh

Hey, hey, get it ya'll

Said you got a lot of nerve (Lot of nerve)

Playing with my feelings, boy

Do you always speak before you think? (Do you gotta? Ah-ah)

Lucky me, I know the game

I'm gonna flip my hair and walk away

If you follow me it's on and poppin' (Is that right?)

'Cause I think you're gettin' out of pocket (OK)

Stop it! (Luda!)

Before ya make me... ohh

Before I make you do what, girl?

You know you want it

Your body's nice, but eh, you need some Luda on it

So find a mattress so we can start jookin' on it, movin' on it

Baby, 'cause tonight's the night

For you to rock up on the mic 'cause I rocks the mic (Right)

It's Chris Mind Freak in the back of a Rolls

I know magic, poof! Do away with your clothes

Then come here and let Luda give that body a rub

'Cause, damn little mama, you thick as a mug

Just how them Southern boys like it

Hurry up and get me some punch, I might spike it

Party in my Babsen, yes, you're invited

So we can make a wet scene and win an Oscar

All up in your best dream

Girl, I think you know you're driving me crazy

They jinglin', baby, go 'head, baby!

With two hams in your pants, girl, I think you's a crook

Let me touch what's under that-

Ooh-ahh, ooh-ahh, ooh

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook

(Haha, you ain't gonna do nothin')

Ooh-ahh, ooh-ahh, ooh

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook

Ooh-ahh, ooh-ahh, ooh (Go ahead and do it then, haha, what?)

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook (Luda!)