| Wrap
|
| Then pass that joint
|
| (*in the background*)
|
| Where the joint, man?
|
| Somebody got it
|
| I ain’t got it
|
| Check it out y’all
|
| Mad Kap’s in the house
|
| Nefrettiti’s in the house
|
| And she finna kick it like this
|
| Come on now
|
| Come on
|
| So just call me the spark, held by the flame
|
| Once again my beats make white boys reclaim
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| A stain on your brain, and yet I’m stayin the same
|
| Bust another rhyme, move into the hard time
|
| My lifeline revolves into a circle of zero
|
| And like for real I never liked no superficial hero
|
| Now this joint is fat, so spark up that fat joint
|
| And yes, you best believe I’m born again to prove my point
|
| To say the least, I know you know that hip-hop won’t stop
|
| I smooth will get wreck, then pass me the joint
|
| Pass it around
|
| Pass it around
|
| Pass it around (2x)
|
| Improvisation is the key to this freestyle
|
| Hip-hop style, while jazz in the meanwhile
|
| Stride, glide, and all that good stuff
|
| Ride to the rhythm of this jazz, it’s rough
|
| You’re crippled in the brain from a late night feature
|
| The government is run by the beast and the creatures
|
| Hanger for the hook-up, for the jab it’s junk
|
| They’re comin in your speaker with the funk-fu-fu-funk
|
| Some want you to say today I can’t fit on one caper
|
| Take out the seeds and begin to rollin papers
|
| Then I roll the blunt or a spliff or a fattie
|
| Feelin like a hood with a beanie in a Caddy
|
| I love my herb, I love my money, cause I’m young, matty
|
| Never eat the pork, cause it’s much, much too fatty
|
| So come down, selector, and give me my props
|
| I’m runnin through a field of marihuana crops
|
| I’m thinkin, all the green, fat, crazy, stinky buds
|
| Flow on the instrumental, cause this rhyme is not a dud
|
| Gettin crazy blunted, and you’ll never say I fronted
|
| On the raps, cause I take the track and run it
|
| Into the ground, I’m ghetto clown number one
|
| Rhymes are kinda fat like two tons of fun
|
| Smash, boom, bam! |
| and I never sound flam
|
| It’s that nigga King Tee with the Mad Kap band
|
| Gettin stupid high off the chocolate ghetto thai
|
| So pass the dutchie on the left-hand side
|
| King Tee and Nef, and the rhymes are on point
|
| But now it’s time for Coke to pass the fuckin joint
|
| Pass it around
|
| Pass it around
|
| Pass it around (5x)
|
| Now here comes the bomb…
|
| Pass it around, throw some flex in
|
| Peek-a-boo! |
| I mean — ooh! |
| I be fresh when
|
| I do that, but wait — who dat? |
| It’s the King
|
| Mad Kap, Nefrettiti’s the queen
|
| With the sound of Africa to the streets
|
| Somethin the Man can’t cheat
|
| And make it pop, cause we’re already poppin
|
| So I’m whistlin, sittin on the dock by
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| The bay, singin 'ay-hey,' can you copy?
|
| Boomin like a jeep, deep with my posse
|
| What’s up, sister? |
| yeah, it’s Mister
|
| K-i-n-g Tee, I brung a mixture
|
| Of ruff rhymes, I drove by to shoot the pop rap
|
| Cause you know you gotta stop that
|
| Bullshit, but when my pull hits, it’s on point
|
| And I got the fat joint
|
| Pass it around
|
| Pass it around
|
| Pass it around (4x) |