Dude

Dude – yeah, yeah, chillin’ in some shorts

Sippin’ on a cold one, sittin’ on the porch

Only chopsticks, I don’t ever use a fork

Go for it, little dork, don’t you know I’m that dude?

Yo, yo – born from a stork

Kung Pao chicken, you can pile on the pork

When I get bored, I just call up Scott Storch

House phone, no cord, of course I’m that dude

Cut my hair in two years, drink beer, get weird

Get clear advice from my friends, tell me get real

No deal – I be sippin’ smoothies and shit

Gettin’ stoned and then I go alone to movies and shit

Bolognaise, homemade, only play croquet

In a cloak and like old episodes of Soul Train

One with the OJs, Whole Foods for the groceries

OJ, loaves, cherries and Yoplait

No way Jose – Cuervo in a bear coat

Heirloom tomatoes, grow my very own

Bare-bone, dare you to out-stare a scarecrow

Blow whales air hole, hair like scared werewolf

Get down, sheets got a high thread count

Red gown gets drowned out by my med sound

Loud – Ted Talks on the iPad

Old search says “Bang Bros” – my bad

Good weed got me talkin’ ‘bout deities

Aphrodite, sucker for good lighting

And neat handwriting, sort of like calligraphy

Trick or treat at 30, dressed up as Jackie Tree

Dude…

Dude…

Dude – yeah, yeah, chillin’ in some shorts

Sippin’ on a cold one, sittin’ on the porch

Only chopsticks, I don’t ever use a fork

Go for it, little dork, don’t you know I’m that dude?

Yo, yo – born from a stork

Kung Pao chicken, you can pile on the pork

When I get bored, I just call up Scott Storch

House phone, no cord, of course I’m that dude

Niggas is clowns, I hand out styles, like…

I make ‘em at home beneath my workshop lights

Hundreds of these, it’s nothin’ to me

At home, over the stove, makin’ these keys

Laughin’ at these little niggas mimicking me

They slidin’ down, razorblades landin’ in alcohol rivers

I can’t get with ‘em, nah, Spitta chillin’

And I still claim Jets at your ma’fuckin’…

With a batch of pot brownies in the oven and some hoes comin’

Same old shit, spendin’, just the toilet bowl different

Bathroom’s bigger, bigger mirrors

Hoes seein’ themselves in ‘em and havin’ twisted visions of us livin’

Coexistin’, demolishing my pimpin’

None of that askin’ where I’m goin’, furthermore

When I’m comin’ back, no whinin’, no Taipei

I still pull a disappearing act – L

Never die, motherfucker, that’s what I say

Gettin’ money out your bitches every goddamn day

Homie said he want a show, I want ten grand

I’mma need ten more when my plane land

Baby never met another nigga higher or hotter

Bitch, just hit the weed, don’t ask where I got it

In the presence of these international globetrotters

On the bus, ballin’ out in different times with my partners

Dude…

Dude…

Dude…

Dude…