Dude Lyrics - Retrohash - Asher Roth

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 

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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, 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 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 

Photos 

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 

Life