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ludacris - move bitch (dirty version) كلمات الأغنية

chorus 2x: ludacris

move b-tch, get out the way
get out the way b-tch, get out the way
move b-tch, get out the way
get out the way b-tch, get out the way

[ludacris]
oh no! the fight’s out
i’ma ’bout to punch yo…lights out
get the f-ck back, guard ya grill
there’s somethin’ wrong, we can’t stay still
i’ve been drinkin’ and bustin’ two
and i been thinkin’ of bustin’ you
upside ya motherf-ckin’ forehead
and if your friends jump in, “ahhh girrlll”, they’ll be mo’ dead
causin’ confusion, disturbin tha peace
it’s not an illusion, we runnin’ the streets
so bye-bye to all you groupies and golddiggers
is there a b-mper on your -ss? no n-gg-!
i’m doin’ a hundred on the highway
so if you do the speed limit, get the f-ck outta my way
i’m d.u.i., hardly ever caught sober
and you about to get ran the f-ck over

[chorus]

[mystikal over second chorus]
b-tch! watch out, watch out, watch out
b-tch! watch out, watch out, watch out, move

here i come, here i go
uh oh! don’t jump b-tch, move
you see them headlights? you hear that f-ckin’ crowd?
start that godd-mn show, i’m comin’ through
hit the stage, knock the curtains down
i f-ck the crowd up – that’s what i do
young and successful – s-x symbol
now b-tches want me to f-ck ’em- true true

hold up wait up, shorty
“oh ah wazzzahh, gettin’ my d-ck sucked, what are yoouu doin’?”
sidelinin’ my f-ckin’ business
tryin’ to get my baby, child support soon
give me that truck and take that rental back
who bought these f-ckin’ t.v.’s and jewelry b-tch, tell me that?
no, i ain’t bitter, i don’t give a f-ck
but i’ma tell ya like this b-tch
you better not walk in front of my tour bus

[chorus]

[i-20 over second chorus]
bring it, deala

2-0 i’m on the right track
beef, got the right mack
hit the trunk, grab the pump punk, i’ll be right back
we buyin’ bars out, showin’ scars out
we heard there’s hoes out, so we brought the cars out
grab the pills cuz we poppin’ tonight
beat the sh-t outta security, for stoppin’ the fight
i got a fifth of the remy, f-ck the belve and ‘cris
i’m sellin’ sh-t up in the club like i’m workin the b-tch
f-ck the dress code, it’s street clothes, we all street n-gg-z
we on the dance floor, throwin’ bows, beatin’ up n-gg-z
i’m from the dec, tryin’ to disrespect d.t.p.
and watch the bottles start flyin’ from the v.i.p.
f-ck this rap sh-t, we clap b-tch, two in your body
grab ya four, start a fight dog, ruin the party
so move b-tch, get out the way hoe
all you f-ggot motherf-ckers make way for 2-0
so…

[chorus]

[-whistling-…]

- ludacris

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