Pocketbook

Album: Jennifer Hudson (2008)
  • Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook
    Say it again? Oh
    Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook
    Check this out here

    Looking at my body
    I bet you thinkin' bout it
    Don't you wanna know how I get down (uh huh)
    Take a number baby
    You ain't the only brother
    Trying to get up under my skirt now (uh huh)
    Rockin' all your hot shit, stuntin'
    Thinking that your God's gift, to woman
    More like a buzz in my ear
    Shoo fly don't bother me

    I got my hair in a pony tail
    And by all mean
    Trust me I can get 'em all
    They say I stride like a model
    Curves like a bottle
    Watch me as I hit the wall
    And I make em' say

    Oh ah, oh ah, oh
    Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook
    Oh ah, oh ah, oh
    Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook
    Oh ah, oh ah, oh
    Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook
    Oh ah, oh ah, oh
    Da da da da don't make me (Oh)

    Tell ya baby daddy
    He ain't holding away
    Cause he got to pay, and no tonight
    Ain't nobody cutting so cut it out,
    Cut it out, alright
    So you don't know my face now, got it
    Looking at me from the waste down, stop it
    Said I'm hot pill to swallow fella
    But I can make you feel better

    I got my hair in a pony tail
    And by all mean
    Trust me I can get 'em all
    They say I stride like a model
    Curves like a bottle
    Watch me as I hit the wall
    And I make em' say, hey

    Oh ah, oh ah, oh
    Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook, oh hey
    Oh ah, oh ah, oh
    Don't make me hit you with my, uh
    Oh ah, oh ah, oh
    Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook
    Oh ah, oh ah, oh
    Hey, hey, get it y'all

    Said you got a lot of nerve (lot of nerve)
    Playing with my feelings boy
    Do you always speak before you think? (Do you gotta? Ah Ah)
    Lucky me, I know the game
    I'ma flip my hair and walk away
    If you follow me its on and poppin'
    Cause I think ya can have the pocket
    (Luda!), Before ya make me, Oh!

    Before I make you too wet, girl you know you want it
    Your body's nice, but eh, you need some Luda on it
    So find a mattress so we can start jerkin on it, movin' on it,
    Baby cause tonight's the night
    For you to rock up on the mic cause I rocks the mic (right)
    It's Chris Mind Freak in the back of a rolls
    I know magic, proof, and do away with ya clothes
    Then come here and let Luda give that body a rub
    Cause damn little mama you thick as a muth
    Just how them southern boys like it
    Hurry up and get me some punch, I might spike it
    Party in my Babsen, yes your invited
    So we can make a wet scene and we can win an Oscar
    All up in your best dream
    Girl I think you know you're driving me crazy
    They jingling baby, go 'head baby!
    With two hams in your pants girl, I think you's a crook
    Let me touch whats under that

    Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook
    Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook
    Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook Writer/s: JAMES DAVID WASHINGTON, CHRISTOPHER B. BRIDGES, HANNON LANE, CANDACE NELSON, TIMOTHY MOSLEY
    Publisher: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group, ANTHEM ENTERTAINMENT LP
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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