Ludacris B.O.T.S. Radio song lyrics
Feat I-20 Ludacris B.O.T.S. Radio song lyrics
Oh, yeah, welcome back to Battle Of The Sexes Radio
Where it is 12: 45 in the AM
And disturbin' the pieces are in-studio guests
Our hot-line is lit the fuck up with people with relationship issues
Caller number one, you are on the air
Yeah, man, y'all tell me if I'm crazy 'cause this girl in here trippin'
You know what I'm sayin', I'm a real man, I take care of home
I take care of my kids, I pay all my bills, I, I mean I ain't gon' lie
I may check a little female from time to time on the side
You know what I'm talkin' bout but what man don't
So how can I break this down to her?
Ludacris, how do you feel about this particular situation?
Yo, get your money right, ladies, let me sign your own checks
But don't call me after midnight unless we havin' sex
Don't ever assume nothin', a man gon' be a man
A groupy gon' be a groupy, a fan gon' be a fan
These tricks gon' keep on trickin', so hustlers gon' keep hustlin'
Long as there's new poochie, them dogs gon' keep fuckin'
So don't be all up in my phone, replyin' on women's pages
I thought your mama told you, you should never talk to strangers
Don't ever ask no questions that you really
Don't want the answers to
Stop poppin' up at the mouth or like Nino Brown
I'll have to cancel you
Handle you, stop the ride, leave you on the avenue
Half of you always seem to want some nigga to pamper you
And that'll do for him but not for me, I'll probably baffle you
And if he wants to act a fool, I'll show 'em what they gotta do
Run along, go find somebody to snitch or go chit-chatter to
Then your name will follow with "Eh, whatever happened to?"
Exactly, that's just what she needed
You damn right, player, alright, thank you for callin'
Man, next caller, yeah, I hear you but let's talk about
The fake ass brothers with the 24's
But can't pay the note on their lease
And my nigga with this high style chains
But I can't get him to pay his damn child support
That's why we makin' more money
Ownin' our own property and right
Just as nice, so now, I guess if we want to
We can bare ya'll too now, huh
Interestin', Shauna, you wanna stick on this one?
Get your man right, nigga's, get a bitch that can keep up with you
I'm tired of thinkin' to myself why in the hell did I ever fuck with you
Got stuck with you, sick of your childish games
And all the stuff you do, I probably mentioned your name
Put you to the game, I've had enough of you
I seen your type before, doin' your 4's all over the floor
He's flashin' his chain's, he's flashin' his dough
He drinkin' the fifths and drinkin' them all
But what you don't know this nigga bro
He can't even afford the smokin'
Back in the hood off the hustlers and Jeez knows he's the joke
That's why I cheat a nigga, just when he eat it
I tell him, beat it, nigga
Real bitches true to the game, that's how you G a nigga
DTP stayin' the zone like we on BCP
Chrome on the SS Shawn, I bowly recip thee
Ya'll niggas ain't on my level, why do it so poor?
Pineapple in berry, we feel it's sup-goo
Lightnin' is Sup-doo, I get my own stay
That's why I leave them too, honey, they never call back
That's why, Shauna, pussy rule the world
Yes, it does, next caller, what's up?
Man, what's up, this is Marv, I wanna know
If ya'll got somebody to talk to these triflin' ass women
Like me, I'm a good man but all these good men get treated like shit
Our friends callin' at 3: 30 in the mornin'
Marcus don't wanna talk about no numbers
Marcus wanna talk about that ass and I ain't havin' it
Ya'll got someone to talk to these women?
'Cause they need to be told
I-20, you better talk to 'em
Yo, get your money right, ladies, tell the man to get gone
But don't you show up to my crib with your period on
This is lesson one, baby, listen, how should I begin?
Um, ain't no such thing as a plutonic friend
You're lyin' to yourself if you don't think you want more
So don't you call me insecure when he's so whoopy to go
You all claim to have substance, self respect and some class
But half naked in the club, Miss. Steady shakin' your ass
Screamin' I ain't got enough to touch you under your skirt
But who the hell are you to tell me what my money is worth?
I'm on the streets and you're trippin' I don't make you feel safe
I stay at home and you're complainin' that I think we need space
I'm not sayin' that it's fair but it's the way that it is
Ain't no nigga tryna marry you with four or five kids
It may sound a little harsh but it's straight from the heart
A nigga didn't write the scripts so I'm just doin' my part
Yeah
Preach, my brother, preach, I hope every woman there heard that
And you better believe they did and some millions of people listenin'
That's our show for this evening, ladies and gentle man
I gotto get a piece of ass my damn self, alright
Check at same time, same place tomorrow
Battle Of The Sexes Radio signin' off, good night