[Intro: King Just]
|
You're my everything (15X)
|
(Dedicated, to my everything
|
That's to you, you know who you are boo
|
You're my everything, yo)
|
|
[King Just]
|
She had a man, but I caught her eye thru a dollar van
|
Had Persians, skin tone like an Arabian
|
Maybe when, when we get a chance to meet each other
|
Face to face, to brace with one another
|
I tell her why I love her
|
Then thug her back out, dun-dun, I got a steakhouse
|
Crashin the sex, feeled aroma till she passed out
|
She called a timeout, laid back and let her air out
|
Let the room air out, champagne mixed with style
|
Kept us goin, till the early mornin
|
We was bonin, blowin our can, for shorty holdin
|
Blunts rollin, carryin flow on this love boat
|
Tranquilizin your thought with one note
|
|
[Chorus: King Just]
|
You my everything, won't you come shine with the King
|
And you can see the wonders and the joy life brings
|
Under my wing, is where you belong
|
And lovin you is right, then maybe I don't wanna be wrong
|
Cuz you my everything, oh you my everything
|
You my everything, oh you my everything
|
You my everything, oh you my everything
|
You my everything, oh you my everything
|
|
[King Just]
|
Look at Miss Symbol, wit the dimples and old pimples
|
Talkin like she like how I rock on instrumentals
|
Talkin like she been thru the same shit I been thru
|
Got me singin "I wanna get into you" stop it
|
Hot like the tropics, and not from the projects
|
Me and you boo, we like a plug to a socket
|
A pants to a pocket, and Houston to the Rockets
|
A doorknob to a closet, got you screamin "Stop it!"
|
Logical when we mix molecules
|
Better call Con Ed, cuz we might blow a fuse
|
Ain't no rules, you choose whatever you do
|
You my everything, and I do everything for you
|
You my sun, moon and star, last drink at the bar
|
You the rims on my car, nah I ain't gon' go that far
|
There ain't nuthin that I put before you
|
That's when I'm knowin what I'm sayin here is true
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[King Just]
|
Ms. Everything, you so pretty, how how she diddie
|
With the tickle pity, you should be the New York City
|
Stay jiggy, that's why I got to keep you from my niggies
|
(Yo Just you got a lot like Backstreet) No diggy
|
Plus she digs me and makes my oatmeal lumpy
|
And asks the right questions like "Why they call you bumpy?"
|
First girl to hump me, at the age of a virgin
|
Last girl to hit me off, cuz my money's splurgin
|
I'm certain, this be the right one son
|
Cuz she was hooked ever since I dropped Warrior's Drum
|
Make you cum twenty times, with these rhymes of mine
|
Between love and hate there's a thin line
|
So I'm, gonna watch my step, and choose correct
|
But this is for thee, she can bounce like a bad check
|
R-E-S-P-E-C-T, respect me
|
Better than your ex, your man's Lex
|
So your next to be boyfriend
|
Ain't no toy friends, here
|
Ms. Everything, you my cootie in the chair
|
Booty from the rear, hotter shit this year
|
I swear, my dear
|
|
[Chorus 2X]
|
|
-----------------
|
You're My Everything
|
| Popa Wu |
