Baby Bubba (feat. Timbaland)

Petey Pablo

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    (Pop a dom boo, what, c'mon)
    [petey pablo]
    It's the dippy dippy don now you heard that
    Let's take you back, where the original tim the bird
    at?
    I got shit here to make you down on twelve-pack
    Call rudy, tell him hook us up a twenty sack
    C'mon c'mon c'mon, we ballin y'all
    Where my cats think you feel me at?
    Alla y'all, and when we earn that
    They finally let the dish and the pan
    Then i start with some cash
    Let me get to virginia (v-a) link up with timbaland
    Now i'm bustin they ass
    Now they callin me the incredible man
    I'ma shit it sick like yeahhh
    And there is one thing to understand
    Y'all know what it is and petey is just what i am
    Spit what i spit cause i don't give a damn
    Spin like just like y'all spin at the mall in blue
    drawers
    On some du-rag, it's 'bout to be the all that is
    New broad, new day, new cars, new motherfuckin deal
    Heyyyyyy
    [chorus: petey pablo]
    Heyyyyyyyyyy baby bubba
    If y'all feel it let me hear you say
    Heyyyyyyyyyy baby bubba
    We lost the music selector
    Heyyyyyyyyyy baby bubba
    If y'all feel it let me hear you say
    Heyyyeyyyeyyyyy baby bubba
    Well he caught me in the van, the gun chat lean
    fah-ward
    [timbaland]
    Check me out in my black trans-am dippin on that man,
    who that be?
    Tim-ba-land, now haters wanna get at me
    Just because we three brothers dippin in the fly ride
    He don't care though, nigga we just three fly guys
    All up in your local mall pickin all your local broads
    Holla - if you wanna get into a local brawl
    We the in-timidators, y'all in-timidated
    By our bling bling ring ring, and i can't debate it
    Lowriders (bzz bzzt) hittin on switches
    As we pass by ya (bzz bzzt) in sun fire - c'mon!
    What y'all need to do is throw that shit up, shit up
    For the cool amigos with tequila in the gut
    What y'all know about them southern girls with them
    big butts?
    What y'all know about them buckshots bustin from a
    truck?
    Yeah, yeah - that's that southern hospitality
    The come of the me, the come of the pete
    The come of the 'goo, the come of the g
    [chorus]
    [magoo]
    Mag spit it 'til i die fucker
    You wit your label kissin ass like a damn sucker
    Meanwhile, mag in virginia in some house shoes,
    watchin the news
    Do my album when i'm ready, tell my label to sue
    If i got it i'ma get 'em, it's cornered and sell some
    (?)
    From n-y to floater while i'm humpin your daughter
    Stayin in the french quarter and listen to juvenile
    I like that south shit, all my niggaz is wild
    You gotta come up with a new plan, i'm sayin man
    South boys ain't fuckin playin - check them
    This week got outkast and no limit, and eightball
    Scarface, ludacris, and goodie mob, uhh
    We do it country cause we proud of this shit
    All those that wanna hate on hip-hop can eat a dick
    I ain't a thug and i ain't tryna be
    They tryna take my love man and it bothered me
    [chorus - repeat 2x]

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