devin the dude – lil funky freestyle lyrics
d.e.v. i.n, tryin, my luck, tryin to see what i can do see what i can come up with. sh-ts in my head, eyes red i’m high. the weed i have is like the weed back in the day times five.
and you see that’s all i need yup a brotha get high. score a zip, roll a splif and p-ss that other sh-t by. i’m smoking while i’m creeping, before i get there, when i’m leaving. the only time that i’m not cheifing is when i’m eating or i’m sleeping.
while the b-tch next door at the motel room. calling downstairs talking bout that hoe smell fumes. but the manager gets high he told her that he’ll go check, d-mn near broke his neck running up to the room to smoke this sh-t.
when i’m stable it’s on the table don’t take it when i travel they love me when i get there, there’s plenty gifts to unravel.
i baffle the minds of workers at the laundry mat. they think my clothes been worn by a walking ganja plant, but my job requires me to smoke all day and if i’m caught with no weed they’ll let me go with no pay. so i lay out on the couch scratch my nuts on my days off. hoping i don’t get laid off.
cause i’m kinda short a weed can i please buy a quarter. i oughta by a whole f-ckin pound need to bring the price down on that sh-t yea hit it just a lil’ bit and get my dooby out the ash tray smoke like it’s my last day breathing.
indeed i lead by example. hit the cannabis cup to see what weed i can sample. let me look at the menu n-gg- throw a dime to me, d-mn that got some sh-t they call porcupine p-ssy. (let me smell that sh-t)
get the torch, head to the porch, light it up and hit it till it’s down to a roach.
my seventeen year old son i told him leave it alone, but when he’s eighteen he grown we might go half on a zone. but he choose not to use and i’m, glad, i hope at last, so he won’t be, poking in my stash.
smoking gr-ss since the tender age of thirteen, it was dirt green but still in the morning first thing we would, spark it up. get high , everybody, spark it up.
especially on fridays i’d be higher than the m-th-f-cka walking through the halls. see n-gg-s on speed, n-gg-s bouncing off the walls. i pause for a minute nah n-gg- keep dipping, keep flipping got some more (cough) cough and sipping to do.
holla at you m-th-f-ckas in a few.
to catch him it might just take awhile, it’s hard to hate his style, as he glides through the crowd making the ladies smile.
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