Ludacris - Cry Babies (Oh No) Lyrics

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[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 mackin' broads and sticking 'em 
And you'll be at home picking your boogars 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]

Send "Cry Babies (Oh No)" ringtones to your cell

lyrics submitted by Jacqueline
lyrics corrected by Matt on 21-11-2005