What Up Lyrics - Singles - Pimp C

[Verse 1 - Drake] 

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 

Yeeeeeah 

To all my Houston Texas country muffins 

Baby let me hit that liquor and that blunt you puffin' 

And after that I'ma 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 

Oooh, 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 honoray resident in UGK 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 - Drake] 

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? 

[Verse 2 - Pimp C] 

Money by the ton 

Bricks from crumbs 

Millionnaire 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 Bentely four do's with Patron on the low 

Light wood nigga, Polo fuck Hilfiger 

Jammin' Slim Thug, belly fulla of drugs 

Young hard nigga, underdog nigga 

Yellow lights on the Masa' do 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 somemo' 

I need some mo' dough I'm a P.I.M.P. fo' sho' 

[Chorus] 

[Verse 3 - Bun B] 

Well its the trill O.G. 

I got the neighbourhood 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 chincilla 

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 

[Chorus]