| All they wanna do is smoke ya weed up
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| Smoke ya weed up, smoke ya weed up
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| All they wanna do is smoke ya weed up
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| Smoke ya weed up, smoke ya weed up
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| What’s up with these hoes these days, they with that shit
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| If they know a nigga got some fire weed, they on his dick
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| You askin' for some pussy, now you know they gon' clown
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| Comin' around with the Swisher Sweets already broke down
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| In the Mound with some bad bitches, they chose us
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| Cause they see we clockin' mad riches, them hoes bust
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| Out the box of Optimos, I started to roll
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| Up a couple of blunts while they took off they clothes
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| They be guns up my nose, we smoke a whole sack
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| Every time I pass a blunt, another one’s comin' back
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| We smoked until it was all gone, they want some mo'
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| Hear that, they put they clothes on
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| Talkin' bout, we’ll be back, we fixin' to go to the store
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| I knew we was gonna see them triflin' hoes no mo'
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| It’s all good cause that shit there happens all the time
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| Yes indeed, as soon as the weed gone they ready to leave, cause see…
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| I got a page on my beeper from Kiesha, she gotta room
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| Mess of friends and a dime of niggas, we comin' through
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| And the weed man call me back
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| Ya know I can’t even move without that chronic sack and that’s a fact
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| My nigga hit me and we dropped an ounce
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| Stopped by the store, got some Swishers now it’s time to bounce
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| When we got to the room them hoes was half naked
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| I’m seein' t-shirts and panties thinkin' I got some records
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| I pulled an ounce of that green and them hoes said ahhh
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| Started flockin' and jockin' me like I was a star
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| I started smokin' and chokin' them hoes was lookin' good
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| And see this shit make me horny, my dick was hard as wood
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| We smoked up an ounce now the weed is gone
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| So I turned out the lights, it’s time to get it on
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| I’m tryin' to hop in the bed with something super status
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| Soon as we asked for some pussy them hoes would have zapped us
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| And no doubt, cause see…
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| That’s why a nigga like me ain’t fixin' to do shit for these hoes
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| But that’s alright cause see I got a lil' trick for these hoes
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| I keep two kinds a weed, one’s the ink then ones the babbage
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| My niggas gon' smoke the chronic, these hoes gon' smoke this cabbage
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| Now we up in the studio droppin' some tracks
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| Got bitches off in the back, my nigga rollin' the sack
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| Twist that babbage for them hoes nigga
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| And take it back to them stupids and gold diggers
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| Let em' smoke all night, see how that make them feel
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| They could have been blowin' chronic if they kept it real
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| Now I hear em' complainin' sayin' they can’t get high, they still sober
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| But that shit be smokin' lil' mama ain’t never seen that much doja
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| I told them to the front like
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| I’m on that ink so you know I feel kind of slight
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| I told them bitches get the fuck out and don’t come back
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| Unless you bring ya own motherfuckin' chronic sack
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| And that’s a fact, cause see… |