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Pocketbook

Advisory - the following lyrics contain explicit language:

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook

Say it again?

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook

Check this out hereLookin' at my body I bet you thinkin' 'bout it

Don't you wanna know how I get down?

Take a number baby, you ain't the only brother

Tryin' to get up under my skirt nowRockin' all your hot shit, stuntin'

Thinkin' that you're God's gift to woman

More like a buzz in my ear

Shoo fly don't bother meI got my hair in a pony tail and they on me

Trust me I can get 'em off

They say I stride like a model, curves like a bottle

Watch me as I hit the wall and I make 'em sayOoh, ah, ooh, ah, ooh

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook

Ooh, ah, ooh, ah, ooh

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbookOoh, ah, ooh, ah, ooh

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook

Ooh, ah, ooh, ah, ooh

Da, da, da, da, don't make meTell you baby, daddy he ain't holding the weight

'Cause he got the cake and no knife

Ain't nobody cuttin' so cut it out, cut it out, alrightSo you don't know my face now, got it

Lookin' at me from the waste down, stop it

Said I'mma hard pill to swallow, fella

But I can make you feel betterI got my hair in a pony tail and they on me

Trust me I can get 'em off

They say I stride like a model, curves like a bottle

Watch me as I hit the wall and I make 'em sayOoh, ah, ooh, ah, ooh

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook

Ooh, ah, ooh, ah, ooh

Don't make me hit you with myOoh, ah, ooh, ah, ooh

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook

Ooh, ah, ooh, ah, ooh

Hey, hey, get it ya'llSaid you got a lot of nerve, playing with my feelin's boy

Do you always speak before you think?

Lucky me, I know the game, I'mma flip my hair and walk away

If you follow me it's on and poppin'

'Cause I think you're gettin outta pocket

Stop it 'fore you make meBefore I make you do what girl, you know you want it

Your body's nice, but eh you need some Luda on it

So find a matress so we can start jukin' on it, movin' on it

Baby 'cause tonight's the night

For you to rock up on the mic 'cause I rocks the micIt's Chris Mind Freak in the back of a Rolls

I know magic, poof, do away with your clothes

Then come here and let Luda give that body a rub

'Cause damn little mama you thick as a mugJust how them southern boys like it

Hurry up and get me a punch, I might spike it

Party in my Babs and yes your invited

So we can make a wet scene

And win an Oscar, all up in your best dreamGirl, I think you know you're drivin' me crazy

They jinglin' baby, go 'head baby

With two hams in your pants girl I think you's a crook

Let me touch what's under that

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbookOoh, ah, ooh, ah, ooh

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook

Ooh, ah, ooh, ah, ooh

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook

Enjoy the lyrics !!!