Lyrics U Got A Problem? - Ludacris

U Got A Problem?

Chorus: Y’all got a problem come see me Verse 1: I be that Nigga named Luda
Alert, Alert
It’s the At alien intruder
Collage Park water boy spit in the ca cooler
I Jam till they Def
They call me Slick Dick the rula
Women indeed
Keep your eyes closed
Bold flows
C’mon out them clothes hoes
Low pros low blows
Watch out for them Po Po’s
And I chose to be that number 1 contender
Southern offender
Fucking up your whole agenda
When I walk you try to run
When I run you try to hide
You skate at the snap of my finger
Call me golden glide
It’s you and I Do or die
Who am I I got a pocket full of family stones
Cats think I’m sly
Why try
You one of those niggas that like to cheat death
And I’m one of them niggas that rip out
Exersions until there are no seats left
You shit and wheat chex
And fart out deep breaths
While we toss darts at the bottom of y’all V-necks
(Who Cris aw that niggas aight that nigga cant fuck wit me though
let me get on tha mic who tha fuck are you)
Verse 2: I be that nigga Bronze Bridges
Playas wanna ball but go on strike
Cause of my pitches
They think I want they bitches
But I don’t want no pigeons
Yet pigeons can scrub my dishes
And y’all don’t want no scrubs
Until y’all pullout ya extensions
Y’all in school detention and never come out
Man I’ll cut your Achilles tenden and put a sock in yo mouth
Cause we the shit in the south
Fate know what I’m talking about
Ya see we Jack and we Daniel
Y’all Earl and Ralph
Four eyes twirl it out
Lick it dry it send it to flames
Not even Joshua can come to war wit these games
These bitch niggas is lame
And coming down wit the rain
You all wet behind the ears but its
A drought in your brain.
And that’s just simply and plain main
Three W dot shh
Man that dude Luda got some hot shh
Man shut the fuck up Before you get cut the fuck up
(Hold on man hold on lil buddy ya’ll talkin bout shawty man
shawty up on tha radio stations shawty be poppin man man
let his name be known who ya’ll talkin about)
Verse 3: I be that nigga that lova lova
I’m nastier than thinking about your parents
Sex each other
No glove no love
Better tell your dick to run for cover
So when lightning strikes
You’ll be safe wit a few rubbers
If you know what I mean
Not everybody’s Mr. and Mrs. Clean
Some get burned like Freddie Cruggers
Sweat dreams
Girls backing they ass up Now they 400 Degrees ha Hot girl
Tryin to give it to niggas up on the block girl
Have you screaming stop girl
I rock worlds
Wit my nine-inch Louisville slugger
Still wonder why they call me Lover Lover
Self explainectorian
Ass valedictorian
I bring them back to the future like a 85 Delorian
The Luda drug Emporian
On the counter descriptions
You like my Diction
And my doctor nurse conventions
Place the stethascope real close to your tittie
And have your butt cheeks Redman
Like Uncle Quilly