| Break it down, straight outta the ziplock
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| To the 'rillo
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| Ain’t no secret
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| Every month, I’mma smoke a pillow
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| (M-J!) G, I keeps it real potent
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| Green-sticky that’ll keep a buffalo chokin
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| Come and go with me, creep off in my Chevy thang
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| Doin 45, twistin somethin steady mayn
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| Headed to my low-key, safe-and-sound house
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| Call up the fellas, hit the spot, and pull a pound out
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| I used to have a secret spot up in my Range Rover
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| Where I kept me somethin rolled, I’mma chain smoker
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| No discrimination my nigga, if you broke
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| But they still ain’t attributed to good smoke
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| B.Y.O.B, bring ya own bud
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| Contribute to the pot, or do ya own drugs
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| But then I looked around and noticed all the folks was gone
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| I shoulda known that they would leave when all the smoke was gone
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| (Hook, singing)
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| Man, my weed is smoked up
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| Man, my weed is smoked up
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| Man, my weed is smoked up
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| Man, my weed is smoked up
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| There ain’t nobody left around
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| Nobody left around
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| Nobody left around
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| Nobody left around
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| Nobody left around
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| And I’m runnin outta bud
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| I’m runnin outta bud
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| I’m runnin outta bud
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| I’m runnin outta bud
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| I’m runnin outta bud
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| I gotta go to the corner sto'
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| Go to the corner sto'
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| Go to the corner sto'
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| Go to the corner sto'
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| (Verse 2, Eightball)
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| Keep a fat bag, boys know I got that choker
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| Part-time rap nigga, full-time weed smoker
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| Wake up, before I wash the crust up out my eyes
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| I’m splittin a cigarillo, fiendin for my morning high
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| Break that sticky down, roll it up, let it dry
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| Strike my lighter, put it to the tip, then I
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| Inhale, and let the smoke smoke fill up in my lungs
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| Hold it for a second, blow it out and get numb
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| A drug-addict, I’m a junkie for that Marijuana
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| No mid-grade, or no regular, just straight chronic
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| At least four-hundred, for a zip, if I’mma touch it
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| See I’mma smoke it if I like it, I ain’t got no budget
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| Now mama with me, wanna hit, better take it slow
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| Seen it befo', I’mma be gettin this bitch up off the flo'
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| Burn it all til' the whole bag empty
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| Now err’body gone, ain’t nobody here but me
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| (Hook)
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| (Verse 3, Killer Mike)
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| Yeah I smoke, and I drank
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| Yeah I pop, and I lean
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| Might see me on M.L. |
| King
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| Burnin rubber, burnin green
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| Might see me, envisions with some pretty bitches, ballin g
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| Might see me, on T.V., live on stage with Ball and G
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| Ridin heavy in the Chevy, cruisin with a pound of purp'
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| This here is my personal nigga
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| This here is not for work
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| Years ago, I was broke
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| Couldn’t smoke it, couldn’t ride
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| Now I smoke that foreign weed
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| Now I push them foreign rides
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| Flyin in that G-4
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| Goin to do them foreign shows
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| Givin 'em my foreign clothes
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| Fuckin with them foreign hoes
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| Catch ya man at Amsterdam
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| Burnin grams of that kush
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| Purple Haze and Indica
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| Now I’m drinkin vinegar
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| Scared as hell my P.O. |
| gon' pull me and make me piss in cups
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| But fuck the man, I’m the man
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| Right now I’m in Amsterdam
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| Spendin cash, burnin hash
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| High like a sattelite
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| I might get locked up tomorrow
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| But bitch, I’m gettin high tonight
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| (Hook)
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| (Outro)
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| I wanna get high
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| I’m gonna get high
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| I wanna get high
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| I’m gonna get high
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| I wanna get high
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| I’m gonna get high |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Runnin' out of Bud , by - 8Ball & MJG. Song from the album Ridin' High, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп