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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 Letras de cancionesAphrodite, 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'm a 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... From Letras Mania