| All my niggas high
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| We be puffing on that loud
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| You need to get up, get out and do something… (Psyche!)
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| I spend all my time trying to get high
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| Except during the day, that’s when I’m trying to get paid
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| If I ain’t got no green, how the fuck am I supposed to get green?
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| Rolling the weed, blowing the weed
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| Yeah, you know
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| Throat full of smoke, choking on the fro
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| Bitch, you know I got oodles and oodles of fucking o’s and o’s
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| And if I’m really fucking stoned I might give you a loan
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| I need a zone, meaning I’m zoned the fuck out
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| Watching my weight, but I’m still gaining pounds
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| Blowing on loud, that Boom, Bam, Pow
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| Knock your ass out
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| All my hittas high, they be puffing on that loud
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| When I’m on that lean I don’t ever make a sound
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| Ride around town with a pound underground
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| Get it down don’t frown when the cops come around
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| Smoking and sipping, you know I stay pimping
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| Got 33 birds like my name was Pippen
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| They wishing I’m tripping about shit I envision
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| You got to be kidding about puffing that sticky
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| You with me?
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| Well, let me slow it down one time
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| I’m on their minds, they realize the real lies between thin lines
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| Bloody red eyes, smoking ounces
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| I’m, ducking and faded, patiently waiting
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| These pills that I’m taking, I’m chasing
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| With 40oz. |
| and vaping
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| Nothing can save me
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| That purp got me hazy
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| I tell her look baby…
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| All my niggas high
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| We be puffing on that loud |