Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Potion, artist - Ludacris. Album song The Red Light District, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.2003
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: The Island Def Jam
Song language: English
The Potion |
Whattup? |
Hey shawty what it is? |
Whattup? |
Hey shawty what it is? |
Whattup? |
Hey shawty what it is? |
Lil’buddy what you want? |
Some violent shit! |
Two step and lay back, still whylin shit |
Whattup? |
Hey baby I got the potion |
Take a sip of this and put your back in motion |
Man I’m like a needle in a haystack, so face that |
Go back to the drawin board, connect dot, but can’t drink that |
Matter fact erase that, cause on this great track |
Get your face slapped, and I’m straight so don’t take that |
Try somethin different and shit, so listen and shit |
Speakin about what hip-hop is missin and shit |
I’m bout to fill a void, Ludacris born in Illinois |
Raised in Atlanta, tote hammer since I was a little boy |
Ain’t nobody like me, say they wanna fight me Fight me, step to me now but it ain’t likely |
People swear they psych me, just cause he’s light-skinneded |
with braids in his hair don’t mean that nigga looks like ME |
Trick get your mind right, livin in the limelight |
So picture what they’ll do for my jimmy and a Klondike |
Bar, bar, hardy har |
Tell yo’momma I’m a ghet-to su-per-star |
Only standin five eight but still a big shot, plus I got a big. |
Clean everyday, stay fresher than what’s in a Ziplock |
Tell your man to kick rocks, when I make my pitstops |
I’m in, then it’s hard to get me out like I’m a slip knot |
Born to be a leader and not, no not a follower |
Only hang with chicks that got mo’twists than Oliver |
Not much of a hollerer, but I’d like to borrow her lips |
Bringin out the best in me 'specially if she a swallower |
Freaky deaky yellow man, and I’m sayin hello man |
To all the lovely ladies that like to jiggle like Jello man |
Bigger booty small waist, put 'em in a small place |
And if it ain’t no ass where I’m at, then I’m in the wrong place |
Bail like a bondsman, but keep 'em dancin |
Got pop potential, stay black like Bob Johnson |
Who the hell is that in that fancy car? |
Tell yo’momma I’m a ghet-to su-per-star |
And jump down turn around, pick a bail of cotton |
Jump down turn around, pick a bail of hay |
Oh lordy, pick a bail of cotton |
Oh lordy, pick a bail of hay |
Jump down turn around, pick a bail of cotton |
Jump down turn around, pick a bail of hay |
Oh lordy, pick a bail of cotton |
Oh lordy, pick a bail of hay |
Still workin like a slave, learnin tricks of the trade |
In a ghetto state of mind, say I’m rich and I’m paid |
Pickin records like cotton in the thick of the day |
'til I’m spoiled and I’m rotten in a sinister way |
Life no different than those on minimum wage |
More money but still locked in a similar cage |
Either losers of tomorrow or we winners today |
Digest that and there’s really nothin missin to say but |