| 1-People in Oakland… Oakland
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| Woo, see I’m ridin higher and higher, woo-oo
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| Kinda broke so ya know all I gots five, I got five
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| Player, give me some brew an I might just chill,
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| but I’m the type that like to light another joint
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| Like Cypress Hill
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| I’m steal doobies spit loogies when I puff on it,
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| I got some bucks on it, but it ain’t enuff on it go get the S-t. |
| I-d-e-s
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| never the less, I’m hella Fresh,
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| rollin joints like a cigarrette
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| so pass it cross the table like Ping Pong,
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| I’m gone, beatin my chest like King Kong,
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| it’s on, wrap my lips around a 40,
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| and when it comes to get another stogie,
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| fools all kick in like Shinobi
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| no, me ain’t my homie to begin with,
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| it’s too many heads to be poppin at my friend hit it unless you pull out the phat, crispy
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| five dollar bill on the real before its history
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| cos fools be havin the vaccum lungs,
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| an if you let em hit it for free,
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| you hellar dum-dum-dum-dum
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| I come to school with a taylor on my earlobe
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| avoidin all the thick teasers, skeezers, and weirdos
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| I be blowin up the land like where tha bomb at?
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| give me two bucks,
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| you take a puff, and pass my bomb back
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| suck up the dank like a slurpy the serious bomb
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| will make a nigge go delirous like Eddie Murphy
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| I got more growin pains than Maggie
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| cos homies nag me,
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| to take the dank out of the baggie
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| 1-I got five on it,
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| grab your 40, let’s get keyed
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| I got five on it,
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| messin wit that Indo weed
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| I got five on it,
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| it’s got me stuck and not go back
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| I got five on it,
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| potna lets go half on a sack
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| I take sacks to the face,
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| whenever I can,
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| don’t need no cruch
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| I’m so keyed up,
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| till the joint be burnin my hand
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| next time I roll it in a hampa (slang for hav-a-tampa cigars)
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| to burn slo,
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| so the ashes won’t be burnin up my hand, bra
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| hoochies can hit,
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| but they know they got to pitch in,
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| then I roll a joint that’s longer than your extension
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| cos I’ll be damned if you get high off me for free
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| hell no, you betta bring your own spliff, chief
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| wassup, don’t make me sip that,
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| better pass the JOINT!
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| stop hittin cos you know ya got Asthma
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| crack a 40 open, homie, an guzzel it,
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| cos I know the weed in my system is gettin lonley
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| I gotta take a whiz test to my P-O
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| I know how I failed cos I done smoked major weed bro,
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| an everytime we with Chris that fool rollin up a fattie,
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| but the Tanqueray straight had me
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| (2)hey, make this right man,
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| stop at the light man,
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| my yester night thang got me hung off the night train
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| you fade, i face
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| so let’s head to da east
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| hit the stroll to 9−0 so we can roll big, hot sheets
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| I wish I could fade the ache
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| but I’m no budget,
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| still rollin a 2 door cutglass, same 'ole bucket
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| foggy windows, soggy Indo,
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| I’m in tha land gettin smoked wit my kinfolk
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| (1)been smoked,
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| yuk’ll, the sprayer lay it down,(yuk stands for yukmouth)
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| up in the OAK the Town
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| homies don’t play around,
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| we down to blaze a pound
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| then eaz up,
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| speed up through the ESO drink the V.S.O.P.
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| P up with the lemon squeeze up and everybody’s rolled up, I’m da rolla
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| that’s quick to fold a blunt out of a buncha sticky dosia
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| hold up, suck up my weed as all you do kick in feed, cause where I be’s we need tab like a foo-foo
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| (rpt 1) |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song I Got 5 On It (Feat. Michael Marshall), artist - Luniz. Album song Operation Stackola, in the genre Поп