Blended Babies - Dude lyrics

[Produced by Blended Babies] [Hook: Asher Roth] Dude Yeah, yeah, chilling in some shorts Sipping on a cold one, sitting 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 [Verse 1: Asher Roth] Cut my hair in two years Drink beer, get weird Get clear advice when my friends tell me, get real No deal, I be sipping smoothies and sh** Getting stoned and then I go alone to movies and sh** 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, Moets, 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 me talking 'bout deities Aphrodites, s**er for good lighting And neat handwriting, sorta like calligraphy Trick or treat at thirty, dressed up as Jackie Tree [Hook: Asher Roth] [Verse 2: Curren$y] n***as is clones, 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 stoves, making these keys Laughing at these little n***as mimicking me They sliding down razor blades, landing in alcohol rivers I can't get with 'em, nah, Spitta chilling And I still claim Jets at your motherf**ing With a batch of pot brownies in the oven and some hoes coming Same old sh** spinning, just the toilet bowl different Bathrooms bigger, bigger mirrors Hoes seeing themselves in 'em and having twisted visions of us living Coexisting, demolishing my pimping None of that asking where I'm going Furthermore, when I'm coming back No wine, no top hat, I still pull a disappearing act Never die, motherf**er, that's what I say Getting money out your b**hes every goddamn day Homie say he want a show, I want ten grand I'mma need ten more when my plane land Baby never met another n***a higher or hotter b**h, just hit the weed, don't ask where I got it In the presence of these international globe trotters On the bus, balling out in different towns with my partners Life