What Up

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

To all my Houston Texas country muffins

Baby let me hit that liquor

And that blunt you puffing

And after that

I'ma throw that fucking young money up

And we can both watch it fall

Like it's bunjee jumping

Man I'm so high

Next time we won't smoke all of the ounce you buy

Ooh, I almost forgot to blow the candles out

'Cause I don't really wanna fall asleep

And light this house on fire

Good night, 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 ****?

Man you know we stay down

And I'm an honorary resident in UGK town

I'm on my way

Yeah I'm on my way

I never give a fuck about what any **** say

The music all slow

And the bitches all pretty

Me and Pimp about to do it

For the city in this thang

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

Uhhh

Money by the ton

Bricks from crumbs

Millionaire from nothin'

Mind on hustlin'

Pussy's a commodity

But dick sells better

Wearin' Dickies and high shoes to a Cashmere sweater

Paint done got wetter

Than it was in '94

The drank done got thicker

And the dirt weed rolled

Nine-six Impala with the stick on the floor

Now it's Bentley four doors

With my dro all on the door

That's light wood ****

Polo fuck Hilfiger

Jammin' Slim Thug

Belly full of drugs

Young hog ****

Underdog ****

Yellow lights on the ground

Cut through the fog pussy ****

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 for sure

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 tho

What up

What up

Young Drizzy, Sweet James Jones, Bun Beada

Well it's the trill O.G.

I got the neighborhood soul

'Cause she said I'm getting blowed

Ride and bang and get throwed

And the candy painted low

Chrome grill in front of it

Belts on the back of it

My chromey shoes runnin' shit

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 gripping grain

Drippin' stain, being trilla

Ain't another brother realer

Blowin' thousand dollar killer

With that Filipino flow

That I just got in form 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 scrilla

So just point me to the dealer

Keep the work up in the attic

And the money in the cellar

Your girl up in a second

Automatics for the fellas

You see us in the back

Then 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