Curren$y, Devin The Dude - Chilled Coughphee lyrics
[Curren$y, Devin The Dude - Chilled Coughphee lyrics]
I I I'm puffin, I never get enough in
I never cooked coke up on the
Stove top 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 bust a gun
I don't have to duck and run
I could fuck a bum up quick
But thats some tenth grade shit
And it's all about chillin', smilin'
Laughin' so you know I'm willin'
Hollerin' and I'm grabbin'
At a freak before I leave
Best believe I'm weeded
You rollin' that billy 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 really matter who's the highest
If it ain't dope
There's no hope they ain't gone buy it
Quarter tank of gas in my 71 double S
Quarter bag, mostly shake
But this will 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 nothin' but a robe, playin her role
I saw "The Mack" when I was only 11 years old
And I swore, to never be a simp for a ho
Approached the closed door
It cracked open before my eyes
Shorty wit a doobie of her own
I am not surprised
Cuz I don't kick it on the low
Wit no bitch that don't get high
Wrap me a to-go plate and ask
If I want her to drive
Cuz I got far too much on my mind
Industrial size gears
I'm caught in the grind at yo grandma house
Plastic cover the couch before I sit down
She pressurin' me for smellin' like a pound
I never cooked coke up on the
Stove top 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 bust a gun
I don't have to duck and run
I could fuck a bum up quick
But thats some tenth grade shit
And it's all about chillin', smilin'
Laughin' so you know I'm willin'
Hollerin' and I'm grabbin'
At a freak before I leave
Best believe I'm weeded
You rollin' that billy 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 really matter who's the highest
If it ain't dope
There's no hope they ain't gone buy it
Quarter tank of gas in my 71 double S
Quarter bag, mostly shake
But this will 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 nothin' but a robe, playin her role
I saw "The Mack" when I was only 11 years old
And I swore, to never be a simp for a ho
Approached the closed door
It cracked open before my eyes
Shorty wit a doobie of her own
I am not surprised
Cuz I don't kick it on the low
Wit no bitch that don't get high
Wrap me a to-go plate and ask
If I want her to drive
Cuz I got far too much on my mind
Industrial size gears
I'm caught in the grind at yo grandma house
Plastic cover the couch before I sit down
She pressurin' me for smellin' like a pound