What Up? Songtext
von Hell Rell

Yeah
Uh-huh, Hef, Fred
Ryda, Ryda
Yeah, Dipset bitch, Dipset bitch
Uh, turn my mic up a little bit man
Yeah man, this shit soundin′ crazy
Uh-huh, fix the treble, fix the bass and all that
Okay, yeah

Now where you been nigga? I been all over the world
And who you slept wit'? I done fucked a whole bunch of girls
From light skin to dark skin, from cute down to the ugly type
Some single, some married with children like Al Bundy′s wife

What ya money like? Matter fact, what ya money do?
Mines get niggas shot and drop on 22's
Bum bitches tryna stick me with a baby boss
Meanwhile dealer tryna sit me in a navy Porsche


I whip a brick up and flip it, catch me speedin' in a GT
Get pulled over, rip up the ticket
I′m killin′ these damn streets, I'm grippin′ this damn heat
My shades is so Gucci, my denims is antique, yup
175 And Week Sav, that's the block that made me
That′s the block that raised me, no driving Miss Daisy
I'm ridin′ 'round strapped with a mac on my lap
Like blat, blat, blat, blat
Old school niggas is home from jail throwing they weight around

And mad 'cause I′m shinin′ throwing they hate around
Man I ain't playin′, that shit I'm throwing my eight around
Like cock sucker, yeah this is my block now
Was yours in the 80′s but this my spot now
You wanna get popped, blaow, go ahead and get shot down

In the wheelchair wishing he could walk again
All his teeth knocked out wishing he could talk again

I see the G's clockin′, I see the D's watchin'
We pull up on they Ford Taurus and we yell, "What up?"
Mac got many clips, plus I′m filthy rich
So I can bag any bitch, you coming with me ma? What up?
Dipset, we all heavy on the wrist
Plus we got them soldiers heavy on
The strip and they yellin′, "What up?"
Cock sucker go 'head and say our names
And we ready to bang with any gang so we yellin′, "What up?"


I been a vet, rookie, to slang the best cookies
Had to switch gears, make the Lex boogie
A hundred thousand bling hangin' out my sweat hoodie
You use summer′s eve, you still wouldn't be fresh pussy

You′re a fucking clown, I gets it fucking down
Run the town, clutching pounds, that'll turn your truck around
Make a fucking sound, I don't care if you got a label or a deal
I′ma still put you underground, where the busters lounge
So don′t bother me, nigga you're like nine hundred dollars
You′re not a G, a bitch possibly, that's what you gotta be
I should be a damn locksmith how I chop a key

You won′t never be nicer than Ryda
You won't never be liked, you′re a biter
I'm that heckler, he's wiped out the cipher
Nigga get him out of here
I let the chopper flare, rock his tears, Rocawear
You ain′t no killer dawg, or ever been a boss

Show me your rap sheet, who you ever clipped or tossed?
I′m still pitching soft, me with a brick
It's like Shapiro with a case, I′m downtown tryna get it off
You lil niggas lost like grinding the jam
'Nough shines on my hand to run, buy me some land
Holla, I write you a couple rhymes for some grands
I′m in another zone like Tom in Japan

I see the G's clockin′, I see the D's watchin'
We pull up on they Ford Taurus and we yell, "What up?"
Mac got many clips, plus I′m filthy rich
So I can bag any bitch, you coming with me ma? What up?
Dipset, we all heavy on the wrist
Plus we got them soldiers heavy on
The strip and they yellin′, "What up?"
Cock sucker go 'head and say our names
And we ready to bang with any gang so we yellin′, "What up?"