| Fuck the buddah
|
| Pass me the mutha fuckin' chronic and the vega
|
| And I’m only smokin' wit the fada
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| It’s too many heads up in the house
|
| So when I light this blunt
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| Best believe y’all gettin' yo ass out
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| We like that sticky icky green shit
|
| And I mean this
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| Separate the mutha fuckin' buds from the seed pits
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| And don’t quit
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| Until it have that ass chockin
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| No jokin
|
| I can’t keep my eyes open
|
| And can’t remember what was said to me
|
| I lost track of the conversation
|
| Once the blunts was gettin' fed to me
|
| We gettin' blasted in the dope house
|
| I’m choked out
|
| I had to open a window to let the smoke out
|
| We need some Vodka
|
| To grab us some fuckin' Rossi
|
| And bring it back to the spot for the whole Posse
|
| And them become a new and get fucked up
|
| Chest bust up
|
| From all the smoke that just rushed up
|
| Well it’s like 2 and to the 3
|
| I need some indo weed
|
| I’m not no door but I’m keyed
|
| So take a H-I-T and pass the joint
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| Cuz ain’t no kids in this house that need baby sittin
|
| And don’t be wantin' a stoge
|
| You make a nigga feel like quitin
|
| But I smoke fat batchs all day
|
| I’m even smokin' the roaches
|
| Till they turn into ants man
|
| And you might say I got too much on it
|
| But dank is like a criminal «America's Most Wanted»
|
| So my nigga, if you want a hitta
|
| You gots to go to the store and fade it wit the liquor
|
| These trickas be gettin' these niggas good
|
| Smokin' up they weed
|
| And then they go and fuck anotha nigga in the hood
|
| Yeah you know it
|
| You act like you grow it
|
| So since you givin' weed away
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| You might as well let me owe ya
|
| Or do I treat you like a punk?
|
| Buy a cigar and take yo shit and tell my niggas uhhh
|
| till end |