Lyrics Big K.R.I.T. – Just Touched Down
Text:
Talking:
Let’s get it pimp (let’s get it shawty)
This for all my real players (yeah)
Sounds so soul but don’t you agree? (ay what the beat this here?)
If you on your way and you bout to do it big
You can tell em shawty…
(«I Just-just j-just-just j-just down»)
plays x2 in background while KRIT talks
Chorus:
I just touched down (touched down)
Aye what it is shawty (yeah)
I’m going places shawty
I just touched down (touched down)
Aye what it is shawty (yeah)
I’m going places shawty
I just touched down (touched down)
Aye what it is shawty (yeah)
I’m going places shawty
I just touched down
Just-just j-just-just j-just down
I just-just j-just-just j-just…
Verse 1:
I just touched down in my city on chrome
Working wood wheel from a yella getting dome
Gators on my toes, love how I’m living
Aye tell me what I’m doing if I ain’t fuckin pimpin’
Gettin’ mnoey working overtime Supernova shine
Only see a playa down and out ain’t no cloning mine
I’m one of a kind cloth it tho, make em hit the flo’
This ain’t overnight
Show ya right, super duper tight, showing bumpa grill
Poppin’ trunk, roll it smoke it up, crackin hella seals
How it feel neva eva fuckin with my leva
They be trying but no one can do it better
Chorus
Verse 2:
I just got paid, working on a slab
When y’all was watching cartoons I was beating Shaft
Acting bad, swangin’ lane to lane, drippin candy paint
Ain’t no hole this side of the Mississippi but this my candy thang
Fly without a plane
Definit, throw it I don’t care, police stop and stare
Toot it up triple boot it up, pop n lock it there
Drop it there, rock it there, I’m a motivator
Haters past keep walking if it ain’t about paper
I’m trill, down like four flat
Tires on the cut throat SS or a Cadillac
See they might of slither on the sun bout to sippin cane
Had my momma’s womb breathing like it to this pimpin’
Chorus
Verse 3:
You dealing with a country fly certified country flow
In my crooked letter the Return of 4eva hoe
Super duper clean on the scene pop my collar back
Prada hella-fied when I’m round like selling power pats
K.R.I.T. P.I.M.P. owe you where my dollas at?
You ain’t bout these bengies that I’m kicking ain’t no holla back
Pimpin’ is my child, strengthing out for miles
Streeting block approve on my whole perfessional
Chorus