Chilled Coughphee - Curren$y, Devin the Dude

III’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 its 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 its 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