The Potion (Album Version|Explicit)

What up hye shawty what it is

Repeat 3x

CHORUS

Lil Buddy whatcha want some violent sh*t 2 steppin laid back still wildin sh*t what up

Aye baby I got the potion Take a sip of this and put yo back in motion

Repeat 1x

VERSE 1

Man I'm like a needle in a haystack so face that goin back to the drwing board connect dots

But can't trace that Matta fact erase that cause I'm this late track getcha face slapped and I'm

Straight so don't taste that try somthin different and sh*t I'm listenin and sh*t speakin about

What hip-hop missin and sh*t I'm bout to feel aboard Ludacris born in illinois raisd in Atlanta

Taught hamma since I was a little boy ain't nobody like me so they wanna fight me fight me step

To me now but it ain't like me people swear they sike me just cause he like skippy wit braids in

His hair don't mean that ni**a look like me trick getcha mind right livin in a limelight so

Picture what they'll do for my jimmy and a kondike Bar Bar hardy hard tell yo mama imma ghetto

Superstar

CHORUS

VERSE 2

Only 75 I make but still a bigshot plus i gotta big clean everyday stay fresher than what's in

A ziploc tell yo man to kick rocks when I make my pit stops I'm in then its hard to get me out

Like imma slip not Born to be a leader and not no not a follower only hang wit chicks that got mo

Twist than Oliver And imma tell my hollower would i like to borrow her lips bringing out the best

In me specially if she's a swallower freaky-deaky yellow man to all the lovely ladys that like to

Jiggle like jello man bigger booty small waist put'me in a small place and if it ain't no a**

Where i'm at then I'm in the wrong place bells like a bondsman but keep'em dancin like Bob

Johnson who da hell is that in that fancy car tell yo mama imma ghetto superstar

CHORUS

VERSE 3

Jump down turn around

Pick a bell of cotton

Jump down turn around

Pick a bell of hay

Oh Lordy pick a bell of cotton

Oh Lordy Pick a bell of hay

Repeat 1x

Still workin like a slave

Learnin tricks in da trade in da ghetto state of mind till i'm rich and I'm paid pickin records

Like cotton in the thick of the day

Till I'm spoiled and I'm rotten and they send us away life no different that ozar minimum wage

Mo money but still locked in a similar cage either losers of tomorrow Now just that and theres

Really nothin missin to say but

CHORUS