Ludacris - Catch Up Lyrics

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(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 

(Infamous 2-0) 
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 

(F.A.T.E.) 
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 
I came with a Beretta 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.

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lyrics submitted by Alex
lyrics corrected by Jakeh270