Sing along with me
Say fuck you Luda, fuck you Luda
Say fuck you Luda, fuck you Luda
Say fuck you Luda, fuck you Luda
Yeah, I guess that's why everybody hates Chris
Say fuck you Luda, fuck you Luda
Say fuck you Luda, fuck you Luda
Say fuck you Luda, fuck you Luda
Yeah, I guess that's why everybody hates Chris
Okay now this is for the Gs and this is for the hustlers
This is for the diamonds and the watch all clustered
Spread 'em like mustard, canary yellow
Now women in my face like hello
Yeah, I'm sort of a big deal
These Giovanni rims are sort of a big wheel
This five course dinner is sort of a big meal
This Bentley GT can make Luda disappear
Faster than David Copperfield mothafucka
I'm talkin' five star tellies and penthouse suites
Yeah, I'm just a playboy between penthouse sheets
Hit the club and go and party with some penthouse freaks
Party like Britney, Lindsay and Paris together
Get in line and buyin' bottles that's taller than Chris Webber
And makin' haters sneeze from diamonds and sick leathers
'Cause my ice gives 'em cold as if they under the weather
But my women keep me warmer than a polo sweater, they better
I guess that's why everybody hates Chris
Say fuck you Luda, fuck you Luda
Say fuck you Luda, fuck you Luda
Say fuck you Luda, fuck you Luda
Yeah, I guess that's why everybody hates Chris
Say fuck you Luda, fuck you Luda
Say fuck you Luda, fuck you Luda
Say fuck you Luda, fuck you Luda
Yeah, I guess that's why everybody hates Chris
Now I stay fresh to death draped in gangsta fits
Over twelve million sold I drop gangsta hits
Live in mansions and drive around in gangsta whips
You swear I'm 'bout to get into some gangsta shit
Oh no, here comes trouble, my vision is skewed
I can only see in doubles, two models, two bottles
That'll pop like bubbles and when I get home
The girls tops lift off like airspace shuttles
And I guess that's why everybody hates Chris
Sixty seconds till blast off
My car got a face lift and took its mask off
Tint so dark it look like I took the glass off
The body was white for eight weeks
Before I finally decided to take its cast off
Now it's blacker than a bottom less pit
You talk shit you'll end up with bottom less lip
I hit a nigga so hard, I'll make him swallow his spit
Then I be with Bobby V on that anonymous shit
And I guess that's why everybody hates Chris
Say fuck you Luda, fuck you Luda
Say fuck you Luda, fuck you Luda
Say fuck you Luda, fuck you Luda
Yeah, I guess that's why everybody hates Chris
Say fuck you Luda, fuck you Luda
Say fuck you Luda, fuck you Luda
Say fuck you Luda, fuck you Luda
Yeah, I guess that's why everybody hates Chris
I go for broke like TLC
The hottest nigga on the mic, yeah I believe that's me
Now all the ladies wanna give a lil TLC
'Cause Luda was set for life after three LPs, yep
Still countin', still climbin' the charts
And rappers still talkin' shit like they was rhymin' in farts
I cross the finish line twice, they still tryin' to start
But my infrared beam will make 'em shine in the dark
And I guess that's why everybody hates Chris
Say fuck you Luda, fuck you Luda
Say fuck you Luda, fuck you Luda
Say fuck you Luda, fuck you Luda
Yeah, I guess that's why everybody hates Chris
Say fuck you Luda, fuck you Luda
Say fuck you Luda, fuck you Luda
Say fuck you Luda, fuck you Luda
Yeah, I guess that's why everybody hates Chris
Writer(s): Smokey Robinson, Christopher Bridges, Johnny William Bristol
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com