[Repeat: x3]
What up aye shawty what it is

[Chorus]
Lil Buddy whatcha want
Some violent shit
2 stepping laid back still wildin' shit
What up
Aye baby I got the potion
Take a sip of this and put yo back in motion

[Verse 1]
Man I'm like a needle in a haystack so face that goin back
To the drawing board connect dots But can't trace that
Matter fact erase that cause I'm this late track
Get ya face slapped and I'm Straight so don't taste that try somthin
Different and shit I'm listenin and shit
Speaking about What hip-hop missin and shit
I'm bout to feel a void
Ludacris born in illinois
Raised in Atlanta Taught hamma since I was a little boy
Ain't nobody like me
So they want to bite me fight me step
To me now but it ain't like me
People swear they sike me
Just cause he's light-skinded with braids in
His hair don't mean that nigga look like me
Trick getcha mind right livin in a limelight
So Picture what they'll do for my jimmy and a kondike
Bar Bar hardy hard tell yo mama I'ma ghetto Superstar

[Chorus]

[Verse 2]
Only standin 5'8 I make but still a bigshot
Plus I gotta big
Clean everyday stay fresher than what's in A ziploc
Tell yo man to kick rocks
When I make my pit stops
I'm in then its hard to get me out Like imma slipknot
Born to be a leader and not no not a follower
Only hang wit chicks that got mo
Twist than Oliver
Not much of a hollower
Would I like to borrow her lips
Bringing out the best In me specially if she's a swallower
Freaky-deaky yellow man
To all the lovely ladies that like to Jiggle like jello man
Bigger booty small waist
Put'me in a small place
And if it ain't no ass Where I'm at then I'm in the wrong place
Bells like a bondsman
But keep'em dancin
Like Bob Johnson who da hell is that in that fancy car
Tell yo mama I'ma ghetto superstar

[Chorus]

[Repeat: x2]
Jump down turn around
Pick a bell of cotton
Jump down turn around
Pick a bell of hay
Oh Lordy pick a bell of cotton
Oh Lordy Pick a bell of hay

Still working like a slave
Learnin tricks in da trade
In da ghetto state of mind till I'm rich and I'm paid
Picking records Like cotton in the thick of the day
Till I'm spoiled and I'm rotten in a sinister way
Life no different than those of minimum wage
Mo money but still locked in a similar cage
Either losers of tomorrow Now just that and there's
Really nothing missing to say but

[Chorus]

Writer : MOSLEY, TIMOTHY / BRIDGES, CHRISTOPHER
Copyright : Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.