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Jennifer Hudson » Pocketbook
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	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 cha 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 it off 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 it off 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 ya'll 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'm a flip my hair and walk away If you follow me it's 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 matress 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 what's 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
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