| I said my momma don’t understand me, Daddy never really cared
|
| Fuck the rest, I’ve failed their test
|
| I guess life just ain’t fair
|
| A preacher man done told me, said your ways you better change
|
| But forgive me man, I got a mic in my hand
|
| And it’s my time to rock the stage, misunderstood
|
| One in a million, a million in one
|
| A stoner reeking havoc, but I don’t carry a gun
|
| Only a microphones so I can rock the stage
|
| Don’t got a beeper But I got some pages of some dope ass lyrics
|
| From my imagination
|
| Smoked out the officer on my probation
|
| Bustin caps in the balls of this generation
|
| I flip this phat verse with no hesitation
|
| My bro Mad Dog, the south bay psycho, got the bong and bud
|
| (?) everlasting cycle, the dates (?) don’t get no sweeter
|
| My boy B-Dub ain’t a mother fucka tweaka
|
| He’s a ganja man, that’s the way it goes
|
| 2 turntables always rockin' shows
|
| Hey Bobby B, how does your bud grow?
|
| Shhh… That's on the down low
|
| I said my momma don’t understand me, Daddy never really cared
|
| Fuck the rest, I’ve failed their test
|
| I guess life just ain’t fair
|
| A preacher man done told me, said your ways you better change
|
| But forgive me man, I got a mic in my hand
|
| And it’s my time to rock the stage, misunderstood
|
| Kottonmouth komittee made of horny devils, psycho rebels
|
| Bitch turn up the treble
|
| We wanna be heard 'cuz we speak the truth
|
| Yo we miss Rob Harris in the DJ booth
|
| And that’s the truth, cuz that’s the roots
|
| We miss Rob Harris in the DJ booth
|
| Yo all I’m sayin' kid is the freedom of speech
|
| A freedom to blaze, a freedom to reach
|
| New plateaus are a high away
|
| 2 joints in the morning then I’m A-OK
|
| I smoke two joints in the morning
|
| Get the vodka then I mix the OJ, okay
|
| I said my momma don’t understand me, Daddy never really cared
|
| Fuck the rest, I’ve failed their test
|
| I guess life just ain’t fair
|
| A preacher man done told me, said your ways you better change
|
| But forgive me man, I got a mic in my hand
|
| And it’s my time to rock the stage, misunderstood
|
| I’m D-Loc I puff all the smoke
|
| Never have herbs cuz I’m always broke
|
| Never had a job, probably never will
|
| That’s right Saint Dog, we kings of the hill
|
| I’m Saint Dog never find me trippin'
|
| Never gun grippin', always 40 sippin'
|
| Anarchy is the life of me, give me booze, blunts, broads
|
| And I’ll tap all three
|
| I got a German glow with an irie flow
|
| You’re red in the face cuz I bucked your hoe
|
| So what now bro? |
| You know we told ya so
|
| We got more game that L.A.'s got blow
|
| Yo my boy D-Loc got ears like a monkey
|
| My boy Saint Dog is a hip-hop drunkie
|
| DJ Bobby B gots the tracks that are funky
|
| If you really must know I grow my green bud skunky
|
| I said my momma don’t understand me, Daddy never really cared
|
| Fuck the rest, I’ve failed their test
|
| I guess life just ain’t fair
|
| A preacher man done told me, said your ways you better change
|
| But forgive me man, I got a mic in my hand
|
| And it’s my time to rock the stage, misunderstood |