damnlyrics.com

Chilled Coughphee (feat. Devin the Dude)

I'm puffin

I never get enough in

I never cook 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 hoe 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

Niggas 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 itYea

Quarter tank of gas in my seven one double S

Quarter bag mostly shake but this ol' have to due I guess

G.P.S. 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 hoe

Approach the closed do'

It crack open before my eyes

Shorty with a doubie of her own I am not surprised

Cause I don't kick it on the low

With no bitches that don't get high

Serve 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

Songwriters

Franklin, Shante / Copeland, Devin C / Willis, DavidPublished by

Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Universal Music Publishing Group Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.

Enjoy the lyrics !!!