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Artist: Curren$y f/ Devin the Dude
Album:  Pilot Talk
Song:   Chilled Coughphee
Typed by:

[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 roll
I saw "The Mac" when I was only 11 years old
and I swore, to never be a simp for a hoe
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