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Correct What Up? Lyrics
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Pimp C
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Correct What Up?
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High rollers, what's up? Drinks Houston, what's up? Onyx, what's up? You does it baby you does it baby Harlem nights, what's up? Treasures, what's up? Legends, what's up? Just love me baby just love me baby Yeah (yeah) To all my Houston Texas country muffins Baby let me hit that liquor and that blunt you puffin' And after that I'm a throw that fuckin' "young money" up And we can both watch it fall like it's bungee jumpin' Man I'm so high, next time we won't smoke all of that ounce you buy Ooh, I almost forgot to blow the candles out 'Cause I don't really want to fall asleep and light this house on fire Goodnight, I'm still up, I told my girl to lay down I see the bottle is full, I'm 'bout to drink it way down What up Bun my nigga? Man you know we stay down And I'm an honorary resident in U.G.K. town I'm on my way Yeah I'm on my way I never give a fuck about what any nigga say The music all slow and the bitches all pretty Me and Pimp about to do it for the city in this thing [Chorus] What up? What up? H-Town in this bitch What up? What up? Me and Pimp about to do it for the city What up? What up? What up? What up? Money by the ton Bricks from crumbs Millionaire from nothin' Mind on hustlin' Pussy a commodity but a dick sell better Went from Dickies and high shoes to a cashmere sweater Paint that got wetter than it was in '94 The drink that got thicker and the dirt weed rolled '96 Impala with the stick on the floor Now its Bentley four doors with Madrona on the door Thats light wood nigga, Polo fuck Hilfiger Jammin' Slim Thug, belly fulla of drugs Young hard nigga, underdog nigga Miller lights on the ground cause through the fall pussy nigga Yellow diamonds on my finger Playin' in the car My dick wanna fuck but my pockets say stop Not 'cause they empty I'm just greedy for some mo' I need some mo' dough I'm a P.I.M.P. fo' sho' [Chorus] Well its the trill O.G. I got the neighborhood soul Kush is dead I'm gettin' blowed Ridin', bangin', gettin' throwed in the candy painted low Chrome grill in front of it Belts on the back of it, my homie shoes runnin' shit And shorty on the side of me is straight up off the King cover Don't care what anybody say long as the king love her Wish I could tell her that I don't but it would kill her I just keep on grippin' grains, drippin' stains Bein' trilla, ain't another brotha realer Blowin' thousand dollar killa With that Filipino flow that I just got it from Manila 'Bout to snow up in my city So let me put on my chinchilla In the 'Rari doin' donuts like my name was J. Dilla All about the skrilla so just point me to the dealer Keep the work up in the attic and the money in the cella' Your girl up in the second automatics for the fella's You see us in the back than all you gotta do is tell us What up? What up? H-Town in this bitch What up? What up? H-Town in this bitch What up? What up? H-Town in this bitch What up? What up? Me and Pimp about to do it for the city
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