Lyrics:
got no one, then go have some fun by yourself
But whatever you do, don't let the door knob hit you on the way out
[Chamillionaire]
Niggaz was throwing
Thousand dollar shades on
My lil' homies boost 'em
Songs bump in Houston like Trae
Tha Truth produced 'em silverback nigga
I suggest you get used
Makin' hit records like Whitney Houston
With a mind of violence, right, I might
Blow the show teachers speakin' yo, I cut MP's
To release to each and be
cooling
In the O we cooling
Smoked a blunt with Sidney
Up in Sidney
Met this girl from Houston
And she said her name was Whitney
I'm with Brittany
Down in
don't bang blocks I bang my whole city
Imma need her tonight that bitch too pretty
We just got to Houston and we brought Whitney's
She said I'm a dawg I
[P.P.] Stronghold overthrow the whole fuckin underground
[I.T.] Secretly run, by commercial motherfuckers now
[S.S.] So while you little step-and-fetch
Whitney Houston was really popular then and my parents loved asking me to sing along with her songs on the radio. Especially on road trips in my parents'
my sock place your order
Blocs at da top of da Carter
Roc out da Drop like Shawn Carter
C.O.D. We do not Barter
U late wit da payment don’t botha
We
they can't fool me
Finna get the doctor, this Draco sing like Whitney Houston
Pop out with a fee, just for me to introduce me
Can't get in with me, ion
I got by
Creflo pray Mike Vick payed bobby brown stray Whitney lost weight
Kimbo Slice on the pad when I write
That Mayweather money looking funny in
Smoking louder than drunk bitch at the bar
Whitney Houston call it coke in my car (hee)
Hop in my Benz while I sku-da-ska-ska (hee)
Saw that pussy like I
goes back juss like them splinters an 'em temps, uh
met this bitch that was in Houston, said she was from Houston,
said her profession was stackin
pelu omo mi o omo oloogo
Forelines l'oruko re o, omo mi
Fore by Fore eh
Fore by Fore eh eh eh
Forelines don bring album (Forelines don bring album
Bull-shit
You know semi-automatic I stay with a full clip
With them Houston Rockets, baby 9 in my pocket
Hypnotic and bomb chronic, bang you with
won't meet again
Flew In a couple of Females I will not by them a seat again
They'll say I'm simping hard in this album
I guess they've never felt alone
me, I'm the black Lance Ricky
'Cause I'm somewhere out in Houston
I ain't talkin' 'bout Whitney
I jam swiftly, baddest bitches can't get me
Now these
stalker
Words thrillin', so real they're chillin', the hit author
Gettin' louder than a shot gun, you don't want none
Rhyme pays was the name of the album
by Whitney Houston back in 1992
I don't do it for the views, no, I do it for fulfillment
And as long as that is true can't nobody take that from you
on a Vyv
So high sorta like a Whitney Houston ride
Big guy I order the fries supersized
If you don't mind I might just let you decide
If my squad ain't
that ruthless
All so we can blow like Whitney Houston we stupid
Play with these dogs you will get mangled
I was taught to pop to take off the top don't
the bandz
Can't you comprehend
Grab my by the hand
Let me take you to the places where it all began
I've been longing to set the record straight yet again
you ever think of stopping me, Bblow it out ya ass!
I'm a hustler by nature but criminal by law
Any charges set against me, chunk it up and stand tall
I got by
Creflo pray Mike Vick payed bobby brown stray Whitney lost weight
Kimbo Slice on the pad when I write
That Mayweather money looking funny in
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hogy ha a Whitney Houston: I will
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