| Ah yeah, we sending this one out
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| From everybody I mean to everybody from the H-Town to the A-Town
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| To worldwide so get your lighters, get your drink
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| And I tell you what I’m so fucked up, and screwed up If anybody try to blow my high, you know what I’ma tell 'em
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| (Fuck you!) Fuck you!
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| (Fuck you!) Fuck you!
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| (Fuck you!) Fuck you!
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| (Fuck you!) Fuck you!
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| (I'm screwed up)
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| I feel better than I’ve ever felt before, Ah!
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| Intoxicated but maintaining self-control, Ah!
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| I took a swig, I had a jug, chug-a-log, I’m loud and clear
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| I had some bud, I lit it up, and then I made it disappear
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| 'Cause my magic tricks, are so fabulous
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| This shit’s hazardous, got amateurs smoking canibus
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| If you mad at this, damn it then
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| I made a, call to my dog, time to split the blunt and break it up Three-wheel motion, purple potion, I gotta shake it up
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| I tried to kick the habit, but it keep calling me Abracadabra, here’s a magic trick, I smoked up all the weed
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| Zig-Zag's and golden wraps got my mind gone
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| Drugs don’t affect my work, I still get my grind on
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| I’m leaning like the Tower of Pisa, the syrup squeezer
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| Come close to my stash, and get treated as if I’m Ebeneezer
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| I’m throwed, blowed, matter-of-fact let’s call this the thrower potion
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| I’m screwed up, so no wonder things are in slower motion
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| I gots to have it, can't kick the habit, I’ve tried to shake it The drug experiment stage if you mistake then
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| I’m from Screwed Up Texas, we drive reckless, and then we peel off
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| You ain’t had shit until you smoke Sweet Tooth and Jack Frost
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| Hit it twice but don’t cough, you gotta take it man
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| If it’s a record for smoking I’m 'bout to break it man
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| Me and Luda puffing budda, we in a black Cougar
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| On Zap Judas, you try to jack us we grab rulers
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| How can I say it plain?
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| That I’m off that Mary Jane
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| And if it’s true what they say
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| Then I don’t know how many cells is left in my fucking brain
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| But I’ma keep on writing and lighting
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| Minds of these hungry rappers
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| And tell the hood that I’ve hired niggers and fired crackers
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| On the Fourth of July, opens your eyes I’m joking stupid
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| I love all races but if you hating my music then
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| I love my occupation, we never have to take a piss test
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| Fuck a 9 to 5 'cause I’m always getting rest
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| I wake to breakfest and head
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| You wake up to breakfast in bed
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| Should I drive my H2? |
| Hmmm?
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| I’ma take the Lexus instead
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| Pimping ain’t dead but I’ll leave you niggaz
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| Dead from all this pimping
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| I’m riding spinners like a pimp
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| That’s why I’m limpin'
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| Off substances that’s controlled
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| That’s how this story goes
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| I popped the cap, broke the ice
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| And Lil’Flip done broke the mold
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| I’m so cold I think I, see dead people
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| Nah, that’s just my homies passed out in the Regal
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| Believe it, the potency is so strong, if you notice me
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| I’m calm, cool, and collected and if you, disrespect it We doing this for them players that bank screw music
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| We don’t pass out after 8 blunts, because we used to it Me and Cris like cheech &chong
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| So hurry, break out the weed and the bong
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| 'Cause if it ain’t Grade A trees, we gotta leave it alone
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| And to my homie screw, you know I gotta hold it down
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| And if they want it then they gotta come and take the crown
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| Hahahahahaha So there you have it Sending this one out to all my drinkers and all my smokers
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| United and lighted we stand inebriated we fall
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| And if you wanna pass the sobriety and breathalyzer test
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| Hear’s a quick Luda tip some packets of mustard in your car
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| Keep mustard god damn it and whoever said niggas in the south can’t rhyme |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Screwed Up , by - Ludacris. Song from the album Chicken - N - Beer, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп