"Pocketbook" Lyrics

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
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Looking at my body
I bet you thinkin' bout it
Don't you 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)
Rocking all your hot shit, stunting
Thinking 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 holding no weight
Cause he gots cake and no knife
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 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
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)
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 popping
Cause I think you're gettin out of pocket
(Luda!)
Stop it! Before ya make me... ohh!

Before I make you 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 your 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 jingling 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
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)

Hahaha! Aw, you ain't gon' do nothing
Gon' head and do it then, hahahaha! What?!
LUDA!