or
St. Lunatics

[Chorus: x2]
Hey this is no lie hey, hey
Me and my niggas getting high hey, hey
Yo if you look up in the sky hey, hey
You might see us floating by hey, hey

You see Biggie be like what's beef?
Me I'm like what's weed?
Weed is actually a medicine for me, you know
Every 4 hours like a prescription I smoke
And I'm thanking my refer chief for making me choke
I'm like one of those half-baked thugs, I'm in love
Then after that roll cool "J's" I mean bud
Cause I still piss stems and still shit seeds,
I spit residue smoke on my way to buy weed
Wrap Sumden, always I smoke more then Cheech and Chong
My best friends a bong and my homies a smokaholic
I know one day, I'm gon' stop,
but that'll be the day when my seeds don't pop
You see weed helps me get my thoughts together quick
But on the other hand, soon as I'm sober I forget
Shit, I'm still stuck at point "A" ya dig,
and my momma think that I should quit

[Chorus: x2]

Ya I get high
You might see me stroll by
in the Bob Marley tie die with the red eye
I'm sick now
I think I'm catching glaucoma
See me on the corner, lookin' for weed donors

You know how we do it, kid, we get that good herb and swerve
Till the gas run out, the way we smoke's absurd
That's my word, Wrap Sumden (Wrap Sumden),
make a nigga clap somthing, get all mad and slap something

Yo grab the towels cover the smoke alarms and doors
See I smoke alone, I need grass like lawn mowers
Say dutch time, roll up it's clutch time,
and I burn mine, don't you ever ever touch mine

Fire it up dog, but watch out for 5-0's
Eyes blowed fuck plenty henny and hydro.
Fuck a bitch and some hoes, I gotta get rich
gold platinum and do some shows and get blow-owed

[Chorus: x2]

All I know, is money makin' hoes and smoking endo
If I wasn't high I'd probably know a little more,
but since I don't some might consider me slow
Don't worry though
I keep the pants sag, Bubble eye hands rag
Eyes glassed, smokin' fill from the hash
Chokin' half to death but don't the blunt pass
"What we doin' today?" Same shit we did last week
Wake up in the morning and yawn and roll up
Bag up and make some runs and roll up
5-0 behind me my niggas so hold up
OK made a left you continue to roll up
Don't get me wrong, police, yo I stop for them,
but guaranteed when they leave I be smokin' again
Catch my second wind and start in on my next bag
The type of nigga smoke on the way to his rehab

[Chorus: x3]

Written by EPPERSON, JASON / HAYNES, CORNELL
Published by Universal Music Publishing Group

Lyrics Provided By LyricFind Inc.