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 when 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 Bolognese, homemade, only played croquet In a cloak, and like old episodes of Soul Train Run with the O'Jays, Whole Foods for the groceries OJ, loafs, cherries and Yoplait No way, Jose, Cuervo in a bear coat Hair long, tomatoes, grow my ver' own Barebone, dare you to out-stare a scarecrow Blow whale's airhole, 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 be talkin' 'bout deities Aphrodites, sucker for good lighting And neat handwriting, sorta like calligraphy Trick or treat at 30, dressed up as Jackie Tree 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 them at home, beneath my Workshop lights Hundreds of these, it's nothing to me At home over the stove, makin' these keys Laughin' at these little niggas mimicking me They slidin' down razor blades, landin' in alcohol rivers I can't get with 'em, nah, Spitta chillin' And I still claim Jets at your Motherfuckin' With a batch of pot brownies in the oven and some hoes Comin' Same old shit spinnin', just the toilet bowl different Bathrooms bigger, bigger mirrors Hoes seein' themselves in 'em and havin' twisted visions of us livin' Coexistin', demolishing my pimpin' None of that asking where I'm going Furthermore, when I'm comin' back No wine, no top hat, I still pull a disappearin' act Never die, motherfucker, that's what I say Gettin' money out your bitches every goddamn day Homie said he want a show, I want 10 grand I'mma need 10 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 globe trotters On the bus ballin' out in different towns with my partners Dude --- Dude - Asher Roth