Kid Cudi, King Chip - T.G.I.F. lyrics
Kid Cudi [Scott Ramon Seguro Mescudi] Cleveland, Ohio. U.S.
[Kid Cudi, King Chip - T.G.I.F. lyrics]
Thank God I'm Fresh
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' till
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 them 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
Finna 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
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' till
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 them 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
Finna 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
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