| So when I’m fed up I get redder
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| Mary Jane messed my head up, she could be my best friend forever
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| At times I regret that I met her when she eats all my cheddar
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| But she makes life seem better like whatever
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| Is stressing me out, she settles me down
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| Put it in the air brev and spread it around
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| But don’t abuse it, we using the temple ball
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| From Nepal it’s a mental tool
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| Meditating like we’re meant to, just the way god intended
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| When I pick up the pencil and scrawl the splendid
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| I use to use cigarette, mix and blend it
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| Now I don’t tend to peng everybody offended
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| If they critisise weed, defend it
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| A crystalised hydro glistening
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| Blow my mind like nitroglycerin
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| This is the deal, all day, everyday, give you something to feel
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| We want weed (weed!)
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| Sticky green trees
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| Pick out the stalk, no stick and no seed
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| We stay lean off this THC
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| Nine ounce to the bar, four bars to the ki
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| (Watch the) peripheral switch, the weed with slates of chips
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| Then safley remove the twig, that’s the life of the weeding tip
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| With king slims and choice blends to no end
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| High kyer fire, burn sess with friends
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| But I burn it with the best of them (Who!?)
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| The broken men, street soldiers striking out us with the leafy stem
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| High flyers with no focus, loads of Bush and pain
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| Knock it on to the punters and they’re back again
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| Buy cheap, sell high and subsidise when to buy
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| And still I walk straight through this crimson tide
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| Yet you all polluting, don’t know what one hit could provide
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| Best just step aside, I take a polemic glide way off into the stratosphere
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| Astro glazed, I’m being slayed from the potency
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| Toxicated commodity my property
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| Meditating with ease, the weed flows through my blood stream
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| Even the driest shit, thai stick, all types of hybrid
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| The black resin smelling unpleasant when you light it
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| This is for the friends I got high with, by with
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| The glistening eyes and the Chinese eyelids
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| The sky-high kids from Hackney high rises to Rysmith
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| With their spliffs in a vice grip
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| Puffin' Northern Lights
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| And the smugglers who brought it over borderlines
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| Flying in for the Cannabis Cup
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| Till I damage a lung and my cabbage is broke
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| Either way I’m getting lean today and tomorrow never comes
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| So I’m sat in my drum strappin' fat shit, I’m done |