DJ Storm - What It Do Lyrics
DJ Storm - What It Do Lyrics
Hey, Rich Boy, Lil' Jon
There's a lotta motherf*ckin' bad bitches in this motherf*cker
I think I'ma walk over to one of them motherf*ckers and tell 'em this
What it do? What it be like?
Can I get your telephone number, baby?
What it do? What it be like?
Can I get your telephone number, girl?
What it do? What it be like?
Can I get your telephone number, baby?
What it do? What it be like?
I can picture you naked in the back of my Chevy
The cars, the clothes, the hoes, I know that
That purp, that kush, that dro, we blow that
We poppin', rollin', drinkin', smokin'
Puffin', passin', now we're chokin'
The paparazzi, snap and shoot me
The Prada, the Louis, the Fendi and the Gucci
The diamonds so big, she tell a nigga, "Look daddy"
A nigga so jealous that he don't wanna look at me
Nigga, look at me, why ya knockin'?
We ballin' and shoppin', them bottles poppin'
The rims, the paint, the ride so fly
The 28's be sittin' high
The lows, the mids, the highs, the tweeters
Bangin' hard, you hear my speakers
The trunk be knockin'
The bitches strippin', leanin', rockin'
What it do? What it be like?
Can I get your telephone number, baby?
What it do? What it be like?
Can I get your telephone number, girl?
What it do? What it be like?
Can I get your telephone number, baby?
What it do? What it be like?
I can picture you naked in the back of my Bentley
We ball, we shine, we all be grindin'
My chain, my ring, you see them diamonds
We leanin', sippin', drankin', pourin'
Promethazine that purple ocean
So what it do? Ya know ya boy
Ya know I gotta keep that toy
So pass the K, I make 'em feel me
These niggas hatin', tryin' to kill me
The seats in the ride like peanut butter and jelly
The pedal to the flo', I'm bossin' in the Chevy
Ooh, what it be like, baby? Yeah, show me
Some hoes wanna blow me but they don't even know me
My jewelry sick, it's so contagious
You see my wrist, this shit outrageous
Monte Carlos and Impalas
Money, rubber bands and dollars
What it do? What it be like?
Can I get your telephone number, baby?
What it do? What it be like?
Can I get your telephone number, girl?
What it do? What it be like?
Can I get your telephone number, baby?
What it do? What it be like?
We were meant to be naked
We were meant to be naked
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
Hey, Rich Boy, Lil' Jon
There's a lotta motherf*ckin' bad bitches in this motherf*cker
I think I'ma walk over to one of them motherf*ckers and tell 'em this
What it do? What it be like?
Can I get your telephone number, baby?
What it do? What it be like?
Can I get your telephone number, girl?
What it do? What it be like?
Can I get your telephone number, baby?
What it do? What it be like?
I can picture you naked in the back of my Chevy
The cars, the clothes, the hoes, I know that
That purp, that kush, that dro, we blow that
We poppin', rollin', drinkin', smokin'
Puffin', passin', now we're chokin'
The paparazzi, snap and shoot me
The Prada, the Louis, the Fendi and the Gucci
The diamonds so big, she tell a nigga, "Look daddy"
A nigga so jealous that he don't wanna look at me
Nigga, look at me, why ya knockin'?
We ballin' and shoppin', them bottles poppin'
The rims, the paint, the ride so fly
The 28's be sittin' high
The lows, the mids, the highs, the tweeters
Bangin' hard, you hear my speakers
The trunk be knockin'
The bitches strippin', leanin', rockin'
What it do? What it be like?
Can I get your telephone number, baby?
What it do? What it be like?
Can I get your telephone number, girl?
What it do? What it be like?
Can I get your telephone number, baby?
What it do? What it be like?
I can picture you naked in the back of my Bentley
We ball, we shine, we all be grindin'
My chain, my ring, you see them diamonds
We leanin', sippin', drankin', pourin'
Promethazine that purple ocean
So what it do? Ya know ya boy
Ya know I gotta keep that toy
So pass the K, I make 'em feel me
These niggas hatin', tryin' to kill me
The seats in the ride like peanut butter and jelly
The pedal to the flo', I'm bossin' in the Chevy
Ooh, what it be like, baby? Yeah, show me
Some hoes wanna blow me but they don't even know me
My jewelry sick, it's so contagious
You see my wrist, this shit outrageous
Monte Carlos and Impalas
Money, rubber bands and dollars
What it do? What it be like?
Can I get your telephone number, baby?
What it do? What it be like?
Can I get your telephone number, girl?
What it do? What it be like?
Can I get your telephone number, baby?
What it do? What it be like?
We were meant to be naked
We were meant to be naked
There's a lotta motherf*ckin' bad bitches in this motherf*cker
I think I'ma walk over to one of them motherf*ckers and tell 'em this
What it do? What it be like?
Can I get your telephone number, baby?
What it do? What it be like?
Can I get your telephone number, girl?
What it do? What it be like?
Can I get your telephone number, baby?
What it do? What it be like?
I can picture you naked in the back of my Chevy
The cars, the clothes, the hoes, I know that
That purp, that kush, that dro, we blow that
We poppin', rollin', drinkin', smokin'
Puffin', passin', now we're chokin'
The paparazzi, snap and shoot me
The Prada, the Louis, the Fendi and the Gucci
The diamonds so big, she tell a nigga, "Look daddy"
A nigga so jealous that he don't wanna look at me
Nigga, look at me, why ya knockin'?
We ballin' and shoppin', them bottles poppin'
The rims, the paint, the ride so fly
The 28's be sittin' high
The lows, the mids, the highs, the tweeters
Bangin' hard, you hear my speakers
The trunk be knockin'
The bitches strippin', leanin', rockin'
What it do? What it be like?
Can I get your telephone number, baby?
What it do? What it be like?
Can I get your telephone number, girl?
What it do? What it be like?
Can I get your telephone number, baby?
What it do? What it be like?
I can picture you naked in the back of my Bentley
We ball, we shine, we all be grindin'
My chain, my ring, you see them diamonds
We leanin', sippin', drankin', pourin'
Promethazine that purple ocean
So what it do? Ya know ya boy
Ya know I gotta keep that toy
So pass the K, I make 'em feel me
These niggas hatin', tryin' to kill me
The seats in the ride like peanut butter and jelly
The pedal to the flo', I'm bossin' in the Chevy
Ooh, what it be like, baby? Yeah, show me
Some hoes wanna blow me but they don't even know me
My jewelry sick, it's so contagious
You see my wrist, this shit outrageous
Monte Carlos and Impalas
Money, rubber bands and dollars
What it do? What it be like?
Can I get your telephone number, baby?
What it do? What it be like?
Can I get your telephone number, girl?
What it do? What it be like?
Can I get your telephone number, baby?
What it do? What it be like?
We were meant to be naked
We were meant to be naked
Writer: ABEEKU M. RIBEIRO, JONATHAN H. SMITH, LA MARQUIS JEFFERSON, MARECE BENJAMIN RICHARDS
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Songtrust Ave, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Songtrust Ave, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Performed By: DJ Storm
Featuring: Lil Jon, Rich Boy
Length: 3:07
Written by: ABEEKU M. RIBEIRO, JONATHAN H. SMITH, LA MARQUIS JEFFERSON, MARECE BENJAMIN RICHARDS