T.G.I.F. Songtext
von Kid Cudi feat. Chip tha Ripper
T.G.I.F. Songtext
Knock knock, CuDi open up, it′s Chip
Gotta kush pack shells and some Henney we could sip
Keep a couple dolla's on, give a penny to a bitch
But I′m wit' a couple ho's who said they really wanna get
Acquainted with some niggas who ain′t the average niggas
They just wanna see why all they girlfriends be wanting pictures
I be flyer then a hundred gnats, worth a hundred hundred-stacks
I ain′t gonna stop shoppin' ′til I hit a hundred sacks
Polo that's a given I ain′t even gotta mention
Candy old-school put you niggas in detention
Slabbed niggas deeped-up tool in the clothes
I'm just a young fresh fly fool with some gold
Ay-ay, what it do my dude?
I′m living life, dawg, what about you?
And I ain't even gotta tell a lie
My swag, my steez got a nigga sky-high
So I'm, watchin′ my moves
From the shoes on the coupe
Be damned if a nigga ain′t high to the roof
Pimp tight get it right, homie, more or less
I gotta thank God I'm fresh
Oh, I rearrange faces when I drop
I′m super duper Cudi candy-paint the rag-top
Can't nobody even tell me I don′t sip 'em when I lean
But get me to my fans, I′m country to the seas
Please, I stay up on my creep so to come up
Gotta look the part superstar, no stunnas
I'ma say some shit that make you think I lost my mind
I'm the only nigga that could watch the sun and don′t go blind
She fine as she wanna be, but she wanna check, though
Dodging and popping pictures like the ho′s was working with the law
Back in Shaker bitches, trynna play me to the left
Now I pick the hoes that I want and give my niggas what is left
I don't know if it′s the name or the Bape gum bottoms
Keep them on salute them 501's you can′t knock 'em
Use to have the Honda with the thirty-day tags
That was in the past now I′m bout to throw 'em on the Jag
Ay-ay, what it do my dude?
I'm living life, dawg, what about you?
And I ain′t even gotta tell a lie
My swag, my steez got a nigga sky-high
So I′m, watchin' my moves
From the shoes on the coupe
Be damned if a nigga ain′t high to the roof
Pimp tight get it right, homie, more or less
I gotta thank God I'm fresh
Gotta kush pack shells and some Henney we could sip
Keep a couple dolla's on, give a penny to a bitch
But I′m wit' a couple ho's who said they really wanna get
Acquainted with some niggas who ain′t the average niggas
They just wanna see why all they girlfriends be wanting pictures
I be flyer then a hundred gnats, worth a hundred hundred-stacks
I ain′t gonna stop shoppin' ′til I hit a hundred sacks
Polo that's a given I ain′t even gotta mention
Candy old-school put you niggas in detention
Slabbed niggas deeped-up tool in the clothes
I'm just a young fresh fly fool with some gold
Ay-ay, what it do my dude?
I′m living life, dawg, what about you?
And I ain't even gotta tell a lie
My swag, my steez got a nigga sky-high
So I'm, watchin′ my moves
From the shoes on the coupe
Be damned if a nigga ain′t high to the roof
Pimp tight get it right, homie, more or less
I gotta thank God I'm fresh
Oh, I rearrange faces when I drop
I′m super duper Cudi candy-paint the rag-top
Can't nobody even tell me I don′t sip 'em when I lean
But get me to my fans, I′m country to the seas
Please, I stay up on my creep so to come up
Gotta look the part superstar, no stunnas
I'ma say some shit that make you think I lost my mind
I'm the only nigga that could watch the sun and don′t go blind
She fine as she wanna be, but she wanna check, though
Dodging and popping pictures like the ho′s was working with the law
Back in Shaker bitches, trynna play me to the left
Now I pick the hoes that I want and give my niggas what is left
I don't know if it′s the name or the Bape gum bottoms
Keep them on salute them 501's you can′t knock 'em
Use to have the Honda with the thirty-day tags
That was in the past now I′m bout to throw 'em on the Jag
Ay-ay, what it do my dude?
I'm living life, dawg, what about you?
And I ain′t even gotta tell a lie
My swag, my steez got a nigga sky-high
So I′m, watchin' my moves
From the shoes on the coupe
Be damned if a nigga ain′t high to the roof
Pimp tight get it right, homie, more or less
I gotta thank God I'm fresh
Writer(s): Alexander M. Fitts, Matt Pentilla, Scott Mescudi, Charles Worth Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
