Catch Up

(Chorus)

All this drinking gon catch up

And all this smoking gon catch up

But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck

But some niggaz just relly don't give a fuck

And all this drinking gon catch up

And all this smoking gon catch up

But some bitches just really don't give a fuck

But some bitches just really don't give a fuck

(Ludacris)

Now let me be quite Frank

Cause I'm that crazy nigga Luda

Always got a drink

And I'm steady smoking buddah

I do the

Evil that'll bend you when I get you

I'mma sit you down

Then take it to the mental and essential and clown

Every chance I get

Bitch I'm hit

Not by no bullet or no pellet

But the smoke from the can a beer shit

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 fucked up liver

Chorus

(F.A.T.E.)

Ey yo I do this for bluntheads and whinos

Steward Ave. Homes

Niggaz from G-Ro committed to slanging blo

Doublin' dough 24-7

Fuck 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

Fucked up off head shots

Sippin' Courvousier watchin' hoes drop it like it's

hot

Shaking tits and twats

Placing big face 20's and cock

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 nigga cause it's gon' catch up

Chorus

(Infamous 2-0)

Now wit the help of Hen and Coke

I grab my pen and pad and wrote

Something that I knew was dope

And represent for my kinfolk

Pimp a hoe 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 shit even come out better

Grab a blunt put it together

What a nigga really need

Run up in the club and blow a motherfucker 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 bitches!!