[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]