Text: Curren$y. Chilled Coughphee.

(feat. Devin the Dude)

[Devin The Dude:]
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 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 niggaz who smoke the most
Niggaz 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

[Curren$y:]
Yeeeaaa
Quarter tank of gas in my seven one double S
Quarter bag mostly shake but this ol have to due I guess
GPS loaded with the coordinates
Of this bitch crib to receive love and nourishment
In the form of joints rolled, Drinks pourred
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