[Intro: TUT]
Hey, hey Tiggi
I'm gone do this one like we used to
Ya know, freestyle, no hook
Robby Fresh in the building
But fuck that, now I'm a start
[Verse 1: TUT]
Oh, salutation bitches
It's the same nigga, ain't shit changed
My Goodwoods stay dangling, them shits soundin' like chump change
I mingling with her, and, if I ain't really feeling on girl game
I take her back for something else, they call this shit the store exchange
And I'm taking what's mine, like I'm at an airport at baggage claim
Flying, House be the team bitch, now what game she tryna play
We was somewhere in the forest, with them bitches foreign, that Alizée
And they so exquisite, they saying shit like, lets drink this weed and smoke this drank
Whiling out with Robby Fresh, she cranky, she can't even text
Playing 2k on the game-set, shorty talking shit what you expect?
While Zay at home having butt-sex, and I get a text from this chick I met
Talking bout she tryna chill for a little bit, I'm thinking [?]
I said okay, you can come through
She gave me head, it was kinda cool
She told me that I had good dick
I said girl you said a whole mouthful
I lost her number and forgot her name
New year ain't shit changed
I know I'm wrong, I'm a crying shame
But tell me ya'll ain't forget the name
It's that introduction and you need it
I don't think so, but just in case though
I go by the name of Kevin Adams
My flow is random, I'm pretty handsome
I'm ten-toes down like open sandals
I really like to think I'm too hot to handle
Cause hoes give me something like fucking samples
And I just tried em' all like fucking [?]
Cause I'm straightforward like my name was Randal
Fire on wax, I'm a fucking candle
Can't beat TUT, I'm off the fucking handle
I keep gettin' high like a fucking trampoling
Machine, you a fucking apple
And me I'm a Mac like my fucking Apple
I keep making hits like a fucking tackle
And I got the golden ticket like a fucking raffle
Let them niggas talk I don't care about the jibber-jabber
Shit I rather make this cake, where the fucking batter?
Ain't nobody safe in a room full of daggers and a hand of backstabber, we'll all be Casper, ghost
Hiding in the plane fuck riding, coach
Right now I'm really on this pot, roast
And I don't mean to brag but, nigga I'm the shit and I'm pretty, GOAT
Hey, hey Tiggi
I'm gone do this one like we used to
Ya know, freestyle, no hook
Robby Fresh in the building
But fuck that, now I'm a start
[Verse 1: TUT]
Oh, salutation bitches
It's the same nigga, ain't shit changed
My Goodwoods stay dangling, them shits soundin' like chump change
I mingling with her, and, if I ain't really feeling on girl game
I take her back for something else, they call this shit the store exchange
And I'm taking what's mine, like I'm at an airport at baggage claim
Flying, House be the team bitch, now what game she tryna play
We was somewhere in the forest, with them bitches foreign, that Alizée
And they so exquisite, they saying shit like, lets drink this weed and smoke this drank
Whiling out with Robby Fresh, she cranky, she can't even text
Playing 2k on the game-set, shorty talking shit what you expect?
While Zay at home having butt-sex, and I get a text from this chick I met
Talking bout she tryna chill for a little bit, I'm thinking [?]
I said okay, you can come through
She gave me head, it was kinda cool
She told me that I had good dick
I said girl you said a whole mouthful
I lost her number and forgot her name
New year ain't shit changed
I know I'm wrong, I'm a crying shame
But tell me ya'll ain't forget the name
It's that introduction and you need it
I don't think so, but just in case though
I go by the name of Kevin Adams
My flow is random, I'm pretty handsome
I'm ten-toes down like open sandals
I really like to think I'm too hot to handle
Cause hoes give me something like fucking samples
And I just tried em' all like fucking [?]
Cause I'm straightforward like my name was Randal
Fire on wax, I'm a fucking candle
Can't beat TUT, I'm off the fucking handle
I keep gettin' high like a fucking trampoling
Machine, you a fucking apple
And me I'm a Mac like my fucking Apple
I keep making hits like a fucking tackle
And I got the golden ticket like a fucking raffle
Let them niggas talk I don't care about the jibber-jabber
Shit I rather make this cake, where the fucking batter?
Ain't nobody safe in a room full of daggers and a hand of backstabber, we'll all be Casper, ghost
Hiding in the plane fuck riding, coach
Right now I'm really on this pot, roast
And I don't mean to brag but, nigga I'm the shit and I'm pretty, GOAT
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