Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Time for a Spliff, artist - Skittles. Album song Poor with £100 Trainers, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 11.03.2012
Record label: Estate
Song language: English
Time for a Spliff |
You know what time it is |
It’s time for a spliff |
Give me some cig and some Riz |
'N a surface to work with |
You must have a roach on your person |
That return train ticket in your purse will be perfect |
So hand it over, trust me it will be worth it |
I got that sticky-picky head-fucker booker motherfucker |
Don’t believe me? |
Only time will determine |
So then I flip it, lick it, stick it, rip, before you even know I’ve lit it |
Listen |
It’s like spirits are high |
But so am I so my spirit is low |
And this will keep me content for 40 minutes or so |
Of which I spend most of alone |
Well not alone, but you know, ‘alone' |
Like stoned, alone |
Lights on, no one home |
Missed calls on my phone, never heard the tone |
I’m zoned |
I’m in the zone |
Tingling tongues tongue-tied biting the lips |
I ask a guy for a light to light the side of my spliff |
And he says: you can keep it if you get it to work |
I get it working, gas first, first time with a smirk |
Burn my side burn, tap my ash, a thanks in return |
And I think he knew I fancied his bird |
I advance to the curb |
Grab the taxi, stubbed it out at a third |
Now that’s cost me four draws and it hurts |
Man i must be a fool like the fourth of the first |
I mean the first of the fourth |
See this shit’s perverting the course of my thoughts |
Cause I don’t think the way I used to think or drink the way I used to drink |
You think that’s a coinkidink? |
So I arrive and I re-alight |
I give the driver a fiver and say: you have a nice night, alright? |
Cause you were funny and you didn’t ask for money upfront |
Cause anyone who’s bunning a blunt ain’t running for nothing |
So I suck in my last blast, dash it and walk in the gaff |
Stash a few wraps in the door staff |
What can I say? |
MDMA pays |
That’s why I bring a whole new meaning to putting weight on your waist |
And I’m impatient cause waiting’s a waste |
I’m not sitting back watching time wasting away |
I got bare time wasters all up in my face |
And the effects of that last spliff’s fading away |
Listen |
They say there’s no smoke without fire |
Well I’m fire when I smoke so I’m a smoke buyer |
It’s really easy swapping six sick sklits for a hit |
But not when some thick pricks sticking grit in the shit |
Nope |
So now the, the good bud boys we know from the north |
They wanna shot us two Gs of Blue Cheese for a score |
And I’m the type to turn my nose up at 3.4 |
I shoulda thought of that when the Government warning was launched |
But we were warned, we were all warned |
We could of stocked up, bought more |
We could of bought four and half for 4 or less before the mess |
And now it’s that the good weed’s gold |
I see people feeling happy paying one-eight an 0 |
Getting one-eight for an eigth with a big smile on their face |
That kid’s just been sorted out by a mate |
You know, mates rates |
But I’d be lying if I said I ain’t been buying a couple of twos at the blues to |
keep my rhyming in line |
Like it was fuelling my mind |
I keep improving my rhymes |
I gave up for four and a half months after the first verse |
Yep the first two’s took till just now to write |
So if you think I’m smoking now, you’re right |
I’m high as a kite |
Plus I’m fucking tired man been trying to fight sleep for nights |
That’s why daylight never seemed so bright |
So I wipe my eyes, build a spliff and reach for a light |
And try and peace together what I broke of my life last night |
Cause it was live last night |
Every man and his man was inside last night |
I was fucked and met my boy from work at five past five |
Which I find kind of funny cause that’s the same time that I arrived home last |
night |
Or this morning or whatever you call it |
Man’s falling asleep here talking, feeling awfully awkward |
So I’m just gonna take a walk to gather my thoughts |
And build a spliff before my system aborts |
You know what time it is |
It’s time for a spliff |
Give me some cig and some Riz ‘n a surface to work with |
You must have a roach on your person |
That empty Rizla packet in your jacket will smack it |
So hand it over, rapid, top up my baccy |
I got that sticky-bicky head-fucker booker motherfucker |
Don’t believe me? |
Let me wrap up a fatty |
So then I flip it, lick it, stick it, rip before you even know I’ve lit it |