Released: July 13, 2010
Featuring: Devin The Dude
Songwriter: Devin The Dude Curren$y
Producer: Ski Beatz
[Devin the Dude]
III'm puffin, I never get enough in
I never cooked coke up on the stove top but I'm stuffin'
These nuts up in the guts of a slut no doubt
But its trapped inside a rubber should I flush that ho out
To use again, well it depends, do I have another one
I cuss for fun, too cool to have to bust a gun
I don't have to duck and run, I could fuck a bum up quick
But thats some tenth grade shit
And its all about chillin', smilin', laughin'
So you know I'm willin', hollerin' and I'm grabbin'
At a freak before I leave, best believe I'm weeded
You rollin' that billy jean, bitch beat it
And you see that we the niggas who smoke the most
People propose a toast, from coast to coast
But it don't really matter who's the highest
If it ain't dope, there's no hope they ain't gone buy it
[Curren$y]
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
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
[Curren$y]
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
more tracks from the album
From the albums
- Pilot Talk (2010)
- Pilot Talk Trilogy (2017)
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