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letra de phucked up - the phats brothers

intro:

(dave chappelle)

from now on, i smoke weed exclusively with white people
calm down mother f-ckers, you win by default
you got good weed conversation
all white people talk about when they get high.. is other times that they got high
i could listen to that shit all night
“dude remember at frank’s last week? i was f-ckin smashed man.”
and catalogues everything they drinking
“two shots of jager, tequila, 4 bong hits man, beer, cheeseburger.”

hook

(al phats)

i’m phuckin phucked up, i’m phuckin phucked up
i’m phuckin phucked up, i blame it on that green stuff
i’m phuckin phucked up, i’m phuckin phucked up
i’m phuckin phucked up, i blame it on that double cup

verse 1

(lil phats)

i got a couple full of liquor and my lungs are filled with that tree
see thats og and that’s blue dream, come f-ck with me i got steam
yep yep im 20 slut and i’m acting up, still go to school but i’m sloppy drunk
chilling by the pool in my swimming trunks, i’m rolling blunts of that wet skunk
and that lucy, goosey. lsd in my body see that’s trippy shit im a hippy b-tch
windy city kid with that whiskey d-ck
yo who else you know selling medical dro? with his eyes low sipping on a jack and c-ke
in the back of the pontiac the hubcaps and a snapback b-mming for a cig to smoke
cus even when i’m broke i need the shit in my throat
so if i cough or choke it still floats my boat
phuckin phucked on dope, took a hit of some c-ke, it was a long road home
i probably shouldn’t have drove
f-ck snapbacks and tattoos, i rock back tats and snaps too
i brought al phats back a 12 back, and a dope sack, and these nike shoes
alright stop, hold up, roll up, gimme some more more
if its twisted up p-ss it to the hoes you know
i’m leaning i mean it this dro is screaming
and my brain cells keep losing count, cus i’m smoking shit you ain’t heard about
that’s word of mouth, i put herb to mouth, once the purp goes down these words come out

hook

(al phats)

verse 2

(al phats)

i got a cobra in my right hand, rellos in the waistband, terrorism blunts cus we smokin on that afghan
no blankets, just dank hits of the stankest shit we rollin up
so take a puff, get some smoke up in them lungs, these green crumbs they get yo body feeling numb
we spit for fun, not for funds, we mixing whiskey with rum, we in the windy but toledo be that city we from
im on point with the flow like a metronome, twisted like i got it in my chromosones
my dna is made of e&j with a bit of pac, scarface, big krit, and dre
i’m going bam bam with the flow like i’m van damme then i slam slam couple shots of that seagram’s
whiskey gets me feeling slow, but i ain’t no b-tch pour some more
then there’s lil phats, walking crooked but the kegs tapped
swaggin hard in a tank and a snapback, pullin snatch like books out the back pack
lemme back track, matter of fact lets go way back
chain smoking these cigs, stay blunt rollin no spliffs
chug liquor man, no sips. shotgun a couple brews with crew
oh shit and now i’m

hook

(al phats)

outro

(dave chappelle)

that shit is great, the only bad part is you cannot p-ss out around white people
every time white dudes p-ss out around each other they always do some borderline g-y shit when the guys are sleeping
“frank fell asleep so we like stuck a carrot in his -ss and put shaving cream on his b-lls”
like why mother f-cker, why would you do that to a friend of yours? they trusted you enough to sleep around you and you gunna put a carrot in his -ss, is that, is that nice?

- the phats brothers

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