Lyrics:

Give it to me
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

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

I got my hair in a ponytail, and they on me
Trust me, I can get 'em off
They say I stride like a model, curves like a bottle
Watch me as I hit the wall, and I make em' say

Ooh-ahh, ooh-ahh, ooh
Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook
Ooh-ahh, ooh-ahh, ooh
Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook
Ooh-ahh, ooh-ahh, ooh
Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook
Ooh-ahh, ooh-ahh, ooh
D-d-d-d-don't make me (Oh)

Tell ya baby daddy he ain't holdin' no weight
Cause he gots cake and no knife (Knife)
Ain't nobody cuttin', so cut it out, cut it out, alright?
So you don't know my face now, got it?
Lookin' at me from the waist down, stop it
Said I'm a hard pill to swallow, fella, but I can make you feel better

I got my hair in a ponytail, and they on me
Trust me, I can get 'em off
They say I stride like a model, curves like a bottle
Watch me as I hit the wall, and I make em' say

Ooh-ahh, ooh-ahh, ooh
Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook
Ooh-ahh, ooh-ahh, ooh (Hey)
Don't make me hit you with my, uh
Ooh-ahh, ooh-ahh, ooh
Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook
Ooh-ahh, ooh-ahh, ooh
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 gonna flip my hair and walk away
If you follow me it's on and poppin' (Is that right?)
'Cause I think you're gettin' out of pocket (OK)
Stop it! (Luda!)
Before ya make me...Oh!

Before I make you do what, 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 jookin' 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, poof! Do away with your clothes
Then come here and let Luda give that body a rub, 'cause, damn little mama, you thick as a mug
Just how them Southern boys like it
Hurry up and get me some punch, I might spike it
Party in my Babsen, yes, you're invited, so we can make a wet scene
And win an Oscar, all up in your best dream
Girl, I think you know you're driving me crazy
They jinglin', 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
Ohh-ahh, ohh-ahh, ooh (Haha, you ain't gonna do nothin')
Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook
Ooh-ahh, ooh-ahh, ooh (Go ahead and do it then, haha, what?)
Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook (Luda!)