Pocketbook (feat. Ludacris)

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!

Looking at my body

I bet you thinkin' bout it

Don't cha wanna know

How I get down

(Uh huh)

Take a number, baby

You ain't the only brother

Trying to get up

Under my skirt now

(Uh huh)

Rockin all your hot shit

Stuntin'

Thinking

That your god's gift

To woman

More like a buzz in my ear

Shoo, fly, don't bother me

I got my hair in a pony tail

And by all mean

Trust me I can get it off

They say I stride like a model

Curves like a bottle

Watch me as I hit the wall

And I make em' say

Oh ah, oh ah, oh

Don't make me hit you

With my pocketbook

Oh ah, oh ah, oh

Don't make me hit you

With my pocketbook

Oh ah, oh ah, oh

Don't make me hit you

With my pocketbook

Oh ah, oh ah, oh

Da da da da

Don't make me (oh)

Tell ya, baby daddy

He ain't holding away

Cause he got to pay

And no tonight

Ain't nobody cutting

So cut it out

Cut it out, alright

So you don't know

My face now, got it

Looking at me

From the waste down

Stop it

Said I'm hot pill

To swallow, fella

But I can make you

Feel better

I got my hair

In a pony tail

And by all mean

Trust me

I can get it off

They say I stride

Like a model

Curves like a bottle

Watch me

As I hit the wall

And I make em' say, hey

Oh ah, oh ah, oh

Don't make me hit you

With my pocketbook,

Oh hey

Oh ah, oh ah, oh

Don't make me hit you

With my, uh

Oh ah, oh ah, oh

Don't make me hit you

With my pocketbook

Oh ah, oh ah, oh

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'mma flip my hair

And walk away

If you follow me

Its on and poppin'

Cause I think ya

Can have the pocket

(Luda!)

Before ya make me, oh!

Ludacris:

Before I make you too wet

Girl, you know you want it

Your body's nice, but, eh

You need some Luda on it

So find a matress

So we can start jerkin 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, proof

And do away with ya clothes

Then come here and let Luda

Give that body a rub

Cause, damn, little mama

You thick as a muth

Just how them

Southern boys, like it

Hurry up

And get me some punch

I might spike it

Party in my babsen

Yes, your invited

So we can make a wet scene

And we can win an oscar

All up in your best dream

Girl I think you know

You're driving me crazy

They jingling, baby

Go 'head baby!

With two hams

In your pants, girl

I think you's a crook

Let me touch

Whats under that

Don't make me hit you

With my pocketbook

Don't make me hit you

With my pocketbook

Don't make me hit you

With my pocketbook