| sittin in my livin room pullin on some tubes
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| no more bubble berry so i settled for the blue
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| snapped it through and my lungs start to hurt
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| hold it in long enough it’ll put your dick in the dirt
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| and people go bizerk tryin' to get their hands on it
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| most commonly heard phraze is, «Richter's got the chronic»
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| so i’m on it, matter of fact i’m on the top
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| can’t nobody fuck with me or the Killa Kali crops
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| like reebox yo i’m un stoppable
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| and the bowls that i pack are un-pop able
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| so what you grow all i want to know is what seed
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| what system you using you got the lights you need
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| you got a masters degree from the weed ivy leagues
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| or you a cop without a clue just lookin for a lead
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| life rolls on
|
| its passin by your eyes real fast
|
| another 24 another day is passed
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| half of those said we’d never last
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| hey loc i think its time to grow again fuck it
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| if you’re gonna grow you better come pick up your bucket
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| alright im comin through ay yo grab some mountain dew (what)
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| a pack of zig zags and a couple of brews
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| i cruise through in the blue too with the basetubes
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| i too got the big bumps keep my caddy dumped
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| dont front on this trunk stump on my bangin bus
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| we’ll erupt on that blunts but turn that shit to dust
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| dusk to dawn just like the modern day Cheech and Chong
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| Tim and Dustin on the bong smokin mad amounts of ganj
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| writtin songs playin pong we was young we don’t belong
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| stealing cigarettes and bongs we was kids gettin it on
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| but now we’re both standing strong 2000 and beyond
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| to dawns at? |
| used to fight to get along
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| that was way back then and this is right now
|
| we’re on a mission to get it smoke and bone the hell out
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| life rolls on
|
| its passin by your eyes real fast
|
| another 24 another day is passed
|
| half of those said we’d never last
|
| there’s 420 ways to blaze
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| use one it tastes great when you smokin out the vape
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| mind haze sit back it’ll put you in a trance
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| grab your sack relax and throw your cap up on the hat rack
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| throw your feet up recline just chill
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| we just smoked a eighth of the mother fuckin Kill
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| for real hold it in now we goin on a ride
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| the bud inside aint nothing to fuck with
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| some santa cruz that we got at john’s crib
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| the crip that you never find around
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| the reason you can’t find it in your city or your town
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| because it sits in my bedroom in piles and mounds
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| we got pounds and pounds that the world dont know about
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| if i sold it yo they’d all be in the clouds
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| smoke em out without a doubt
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| yo its not for the money
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| its all for the head and gettin stoned with my homies |