| «This is for, all my smokers»
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| Whoo, one more, just keep the thing at the end of it
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| Alright, give me one more time on the count of three
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| 1, 2, 3 «This is for, all my smokers»
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| (Yo, ya’ll done made the album, you heard) Yes sir
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| «This is for, all my smokers»
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| «This is for, all my smokers»
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| Aiyo, Meth, what’s up, nigga?
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| Doc, what’s really good?
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| Got that bush and that Backwood, light up in any hood
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| Yup, I’m that hood, my brother, love me some Cali kush
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| Never thought that little bush in that baggie would have me hooked
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| I’m a pothead, everyone look, and point your fingers
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| At the bad guys, with the cottonmouths and glass eyes
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| Huh, fuck it, I’m that high, I’m blowing smoke clouds
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| Got my head in the clouds, fuck it, I’m that fly
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| Doc, what’s up, nigga?
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| Yo, you know how I bust
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| Find me drunk, fucked up at the Cannabis Cup
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| For those who don’t smoke, get the middle finger up
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| You smoke more than us, nigga, it’s beginner’s luck
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| My truck, ride with 5−0 eyes on it
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| It’s like the blunt, when you ain’t got five on it
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| I challenge any opponent, who wanna smoke?
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| We can puff til our voice get lower than Tone Loc, like
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| Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
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| Ain’t nobody smoking more than me, up in here
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| (Aiyo, pump this shit, you get high off this here, because)
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| «This is for, all my smokers»
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| (I'm like yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
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| Ain’t nobody smoking more than Meth up in here)
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| Aiyo, bump this, bitch, you get high off this here, because)
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| «This is for, all my smokers»
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| Yo, I’m like oh my God, oh my God
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| I start growing sour dies' in my home garage
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| Now niggas on the block, say I’m on my job
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| Cuz now I rock more chains than Amistad
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| This my 'entourage', this not HBO
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| A bitch see me, she like, oh there he go
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| You can smoke with the bro, if you got ass and nice tits
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| But fuck you, with that, I’m 'high off of life' shit
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| They tried to make me go to rehab, no
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| Tell my P.O. |
| that I ain’t trying let the weed bag, go
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| You can catch me in the whip, pushing the seats back slow
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| My chick’s a Rican, that mean she off the meat rack, though
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| Look ma, I’m eating, cuz when it’s time to get that dough
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| I sink my teeth in, and turn around and spit that flow
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| They call me beasting, I monster the booth, so in the cut
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| I leave 'em bleeding, little swag', with some Miss Dashing season
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| I got flavors, I major, baby, send in the troops
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| That Johnny Blaze ya, leave dashes in your Timberland boots
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| Can’t fuck with haters, just mad I got a pocket of loot
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| I’m chasing papers, ya’ll try’nna be a rock in my shoe
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| I’m a father, I don’t drink with kids, these youngers thinking they hard
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| I think harder than they think they is
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| I’m by as proper as my English is, and hope I did my thing
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| Before I die, for the things I did
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| Everybody light it up and smoke with your man
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| And cigarette smokers, change ya game plan
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| Cuz this is for all my, marijuana smokers
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| Backwoods, Swisher sweets, and Dutch rollers
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| Yeah, I pull over, start pulling out money
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| Cuz I by weed, like everyday 420
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| You know what else funny, I found was so gutter
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| I’m Cheech and Chong brother, just got different mothers |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Dis Iz 4 All My Smokers , by - Method Man. Song from the album Blackout! 2, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп