Pocketbook Lyrics - Jennifer Hudson - Jennifer Hudson

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook 

Say it again? 

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook 

Check this out here 

Lookin' at my body I bet you thinkin' 'bout it 

Don't you wanna know how I get down? 

Take a number baby, you ain't the only brother 

Tryin' to get up under my skirt now 

Rockin' all your hot shit, stuntin' 

Thinkin' that you're 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 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 

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Ooh, ah, ooh, ah, ooh 

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook 

Ooh, ah, ooh, ah, ooh 

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook 

Ooh, ah, ooh, ah, ooh 

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook 

Ooh, ah, ooh, ah, ooh 

Da, da, da, da, don't make me 

Tell you baby, daddy he ain't holding the weight 

'Cause he got the cake and no 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 waste down, stop it 

Said I'mma hard pill to swallow, fella 

But I can make you feel better 

Photos 

I got my hair in a pony tail 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, ah, ooh, ah, ooh 

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook 

Ooh, ah, ooh, ah, ooh 

Don't make me hit you with my 

Ooh, ah, ooh, ah, ooh 

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook 

Ooh, ah, ooh, ah, ooh 

Hey, hey, get it ya'll 

Said you got a lot of nerve, playing with my feelin's boy 

Do you always speak before you think? 

Lucky me, I know the game, I'mma flip my hair and walk away 

If you follow me it's on and poppin' 

'Cause I think you're gettin outta pocket 

Stop it 'fore you make me 

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 matress so we can start jukin' on it, movin' on it 

Baby 'cause tonight's the night 

For you to rock up on the mic 'cause I rocks the mic 

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 a punch, I might spike it 

Party in my Babs and yes your 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 drivin' 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 

Ooh, ah, ooh, ah, ooh 

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook 

Ooh, ah, ooh, ah, ooh 

Don't make me hit you with my pocketbook