Lyrics What Goes On - Heather b

What Goes On

Yeah*
This one goes out to all the true nuccas everywhere
Word up
Big shots to my brother Jetta
Big Mal
I represent all them shorties universal
Word up son
No doubt
Now check it out
It don’t be nobody but that rugged shorty
Fuck a 40 if I can sip Hennessy by the quartie
W-e-e-d spells relief
No dutchie, twist mines in a (?), let’s steam, chief
I goes to the extreme, so proceed me with caution
That dime bag you left me last night, I burned this mornin
So what up, nucca, what be left of yo stash?
I hope you hittin ass better than that blunt you pass
It’s gettin deep, I’m goin farther
But I peeped you puffin ganja, three L’s left you traumin
And what be up with that 'Uh, I’ll spark that tree'?
I hope you ain’t a nucca that’s gon’fold on me, B
I wanna burn with you all night, then get live
Or we can blow up with that Sega, put in that Madden 95
And keep yo conversation short if yo cash is
Don’t promise me lavish gifts and can’t pull through
Yo gear, you gots to be a freshly-dipped nucca
From your Helly Hansen jacket down to the Hilfiger boxers
Word up son
No doubt
Heather B representin for all the shorties out here
What goes on, nucca, what be up
(What goes on, what goes on)
And there’ll be no hand-holdin till the lah gets rolled
Keep yo steelo real so no lies get told
Glassy eyes, my Timbos, they beige and untied
Levi’s with no crease, Colombia hair band circle in my dome piece
Real nuccas love they hood to the fullest, let no man violate
Fatigue-wearin, chest-bearin, gettin cheese out of state
Niggas got the block sewn up
Infiltrators want yo spot blown up
Yo, you hit if you slip, God, jewel piece is shinin
Yo shorty love her diamonds
You stressin just to keep your shorty fly, I’m told
Fools gold you hold, let the snitches and the bitches go
One of them bound to be yo trip up north
Nigga glad to see you hype, shorty promise she gon’write
Funny how fate make a nigga wanna see whole
No snakes in yo pit and no bulls in yo shit
Is the only way respect gon’follow yo name
Nucca, what goes up, nucca, what be up
Word life son
On the real
And when were you when my lights went out
And my moms put me out and I slept on the couch
Check this out, I need no new friends, son
I runs with the nuccas that been down since day one
No gravy train ridin on these tracks
And fuck all them jacks that’s down after the fact
Just me and my wagon cause there’s no draggin
Dickriders along, they won’t miss me when I’m gone
Shorty starin down to my shoelace
You gets the screw face, I heard all yo gossip
Jeru told you you can’t stop a prophet
Now make sure yo topic is up to date
I’m spittin back at those doubters that spit at me
They forgot Heather B would eventually shine
Nucca, what goes up, nucca, what be up
(What goes on, what goes on)