Curren$y, Devin The Dude - Chilled Coughee lyrics
[Curren$y, Devin The Dude - Chilled Coughee lyrics]
I'm Puffin' i never get enough in
I never cook coke up on the stovetop
But, I'm stuffin' these nuts up in the
Guts of a slut no doubt
But, it's trapped inside a rubber
Should I flush that ho out?
To use again? Well it depends
Do I have another one i cuss for fun
Too cool to have to buss a gun
I don't have to duck and run
I could fuck a bum up quick
But that's some tenth grade shit
And it's all about chillin', smilin'
Laughin' so you know I'm willin', hollin'
And I'm grabbin' at a freak before I leave
Best believe I'm weeded
You rollin that billie jean bitch BEAT IT!
And you see that we the
Niggas who smoke the most
People propose a toast from coast to coast
But it don't even matter whose the highest
Cause if it ain't dope their ain't no hope
They ain't gone buy it
Yeeeaaah
Quarter tank of gas in my seven one double S
Quarter bag mostly shake but this'll
Have to do I guess
GPS loaded with the coordinates
Of this bitch crib to
Receive love and nourishment
In the form of joints rolled, Drinks poured
Her in nothing but a robe, playin her roll
I saw the mack when I was only 11 years old
And I swore to never be a simp for a ho
Approach the closed do'
It crack open before my eyes
Shorty with a doobie of her
Own I am not surprised
Cause, I don't kick it on the low
With no bitches that don't get high
Wrap me a to go plate and ask
If I want her to drive
Cause, I got far too much on my mind
Industrial size gears I'm caught in a grind
At your grandma's house
Plastic cover the couch before I sit down
She question me for smellin' like a pound
I never cook coke up on the stovetop
But, I'm stuffin' these nuts up in the
Guts of a slut no doubt
But, it's trapped inside a rubber
Should I flush that ho out?
To use again? Well it depends
Do I have another one i cuss for fun
Too cool to have to buss a gun
I don't have to duck and run
I could fuck a bum up quick
But that's some tenth grade shit
And it's all about chillin', smilin'
Laughin' so you know I'm willin', hollin'
And I'm grabbin' at a freak before I leave
Best believe I'm weeded
You rollin that billie jean bitch BEAT IT!
And you see that we the
Niggas who smoke the most
People propose a toast from coast to coast
But it don't even matter whose the highest
Cause if it ain't dope their ain't no hope
They ain't gone buy it
Yeeeaaah
Quarter tank of gas in my seven one double S
Quarter bag mostly shake but this'll
Have to do I guess
GPS loaded with the coordinates
Of this bitch crib to
Receive love and nourishment
In the form of joints rolled, Drinks poured
Her in nothing but a robe, playin her roll
I saw the mack when I was only 11 years old
And I swore to never be a simp for a ho
Approach the closed do'
It crack open before my eyes
Shorty with a doobie of her
Own I am not surprised
Cause, I don't kick it on the low
With no bitches that don't get high
Wrap me a to go plate and ask
If I want her to drive
Cause, I got far too much on my mind
Industrial size gears I'm caught in a grind
At your grandma's house
Plastic cover the couch before I sit down
She question me for smellin' like a pound