Timbaland - Baby Bubba lyrics

It's the dippy dippy don, now you heard that Let's take it back, where the original Tim the bird at? I got sh** 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 Hit us all with some cash Let me get to Virginia, link up with Timbaland Now I'm bustin' they a** Now they callin' me the Incredible Man I'ma sh** it sick like, yeah And there is one thing to understand Y'all know what it is and Petey is the one 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 durag, it's 'bout to be the all that is New broad, new day, new cars, new motherf**in' deal Hey Hey, baby bubba If y'all feel it let me hear you say Hey, baby bubba We lost the music selector Hey, baby bubba If y'all feel it let me hear you say Hey, baby bubba Well, he caught me in my van The gun shot men forward Check me out in my black Transam dippin' on that man, who that be? Timbaland, now haters wanna get at me Just because we three brothers dippin' in the fly ride We don't care though, n***a 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 intimidated By our bling bling ring ring and I can't debate it Low riders hittin' on switches As we pa** by ya in sun fire, c'mon What y'all need to do is throw that sh** up, sh** up For the cool amigos with Tequila in the gut What y'all know about them Southern girls with them big bu*ts? 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 Hey, baby bubba If y'all feel it let me hear you say Hey, baby bubba We lost the music selector Hey, baby bubba If y'all feel it let me hear you say Hey, baby bubba Well, he caught me in my van The gun shot men forward Mag, spit it 'til I die f**er You with your label kissin' a** like a damn s**er 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 Vodafone N-why to floater while I'm humpin' your daughter Stayin' in the French quarter and listen to Juvenile I like that South sh**, all my n***az is wild You gotta come up with a new plan, I'm sayin man South boys ain't f**in' playin', check them This week got OutKast and No Limit in Eightball Scarface, Ludacris and Goodie Mob, uh We do it country 'cause we proud of this sh** 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 Hey, baby bubba If y'all feel it let me hear you say Hey, baby bubba We lost the music selector Hey, baby bubba If y'all feel it let me hear you say Hey, baby bubba Well, he caught me in my van The gun shot men forward Hey, baby bubba If y'all feel it let me hear you say Hey, baby bubba We lost the music selector Hey, baby bubba If y'all feel it let me hear you say Hey, baby bubba Well, he caught me in my van The gun shot men forward