Cali Dro - Lyrics - Like Father, Like Son - Birdman

Title: Cali Dro
Album: Like Father, Like Son
Artist: Birdman
Composer(s): D Arnaud, L Mollings, J Mollings, D Carter, D Williams

Lyric:
I'll pull up the Henny, Coke and light up that dro
I'll pull up the Henny, Coke and light up that dro
Light up that dro, light up that dro
Light up that dro, light up that dro
I'll pull up the Henny, Coke and light up that dro

Smokin' up the Cali, smokin', smokin' up the Cali
(I'm buyin' the bar tonight)
Smokin' up the Cali, smoke, smoke, smokin' up the Cali
('Cause we're smokin' all night at the banquet club, nigga)

(Twelve thousand niggas, smoke a pound, nigga)
Smokin' up the Cali, smokin', smokin' up the Cali
I'll pull up the Henny, Coke and light up that dro
(Yeah, put some chrome
on your [Incomprehensible] while you're at it nigga)

Come on
So light it up and pass the thing to me
I'm fresh off parole and I could smoke a whole P
Can smell it in my clothes, you could smell it in my seats
That's how a nigga rolls, I was raised in them streets

I'm rollin' up a sweet, I'm fillin' it with keef
I'm too high to talk, bitch, keep it real brief
If it ain't 'bout money, you ain't even gotta speak
I smoke it in the paper, Weezy smoke it in a leaf

And nigga I'm a stunna, I got runnas
And we keep them shotguns like huntas
We smoke thunder, it put me under
I'm talkin' straight Purple Kush that thundas

See, I be fuckin' with them trees
'Cause I'm straight out the jungle
Keep about five pounds
And we ain't even tryin' to hustle
Y'all already know how that go

I'll pull up the Henny, Coke and light up that dro
Smokin' up the Cali, smokin', smokin' up the Cali
Smokin' up the Cali, smoke, smoke, smokin' up the Cali
Smokin' up the Cali, smokin', smokin' up the Cali
I'll pull up the Henny, Coke and light up that dro

Smokin' up the Cali, smokin', smokin' up the Cali
Smokin' up the Cali, smoke, smoke, smokin' up the Cali
Smokin' up the Cali, smokin', smokin' up the Cali
I'll pull up the Henny, Coke and light up that dro

I get my Kush from California, get my dro from Arizona
I can get it 'cross the border, got a rider name Winona
And I'll be calmer than a soma
Inside of the Phantom and it's lookin' like a sauna

And I stay high and I still got my diploma
And I still keep the Maggie on me, like Homer
And I'm too sick, man, I'm spittin' out a coma
And I'm still lettin' the money pile like Goma

And I smoke that kill, y'all blowin' on begonias
And I keep a fill of that grass like a farmer
And I keep that armor, try me and I'll spin you around
I'd be with the stars and I ain't talkin' tinsel town

That's right, the prison town
Bitch tear the fences down like Prince in town
Boy, I shits a pound of that purple rain
On the Marvin's day, you with me now?
(I'll pull up the Henny, Coke and light up that dro)
Too high, you can't set me down and I be

Smokin' up the Cali, smokin', smokin' up the Cali
Smokin' up the Cali, smoke, smoke, smokin' up the Cali
Smokin' up the Cali, smokin', smokin' up the Cali
I'll pull up the Henny, Coke and light up that dro

Smokin' up the Cali, smokin', smokin' up the Cali
Smokin' up the Cali, smoke, smoke, smokin' up the Cali
Smokin' up the Cali, smokin', smokin' up the Cali
I'll pull up the Henny, Coke and light up that dro

We got that AK-47 white, right on set, painted and named
Named it Orange Purple Kush, that million Dollar top brand
I got that white ivory ice tea, doctors requestin' don't weed
Blazin' up so much bomb, got a bad bitch on my side

See we just smokin', we just smokin', we just tryin' to fire up
If you got the bomb, bomb, nigga, come and light it up
Yeah, blaze up, ain't nothin' like ridin' by, drivin' high
Me and all the hommies smokin', dumpin' if you chokin', smokin'

I smoke the [Incomprehensible] when they hit you
'Cause you might pass out
Look over at the bitches, snatch a blunt up out her mouth, bitch
Switch it to another scene, smokin' has you endo green
Some hommies be on that lean, mix it with that endo weed

Because we fucked up, we fucked up, you know that we fucked up
I like to smoke and drink with that nickel plated thing
Because we fucked up, we fucked up, you know that we fucked up
(I'll pull up the Henny, Coke and light up that dro)

Smokin' up the Cali, smokin', smokin' up the Cali
Smokin' up the Cali, smoke, smoke, smokin' up the Cali
Smokin' up the Cali, smokin', smokin' up the Cali
I'll pull up the Henny, Coke and light up that dro

Smokin' up the Cali, smokin', smokin' up the Cali
Smokin' up the Cali, smoke, smoke, smokin' up the Cali
Smokin' up the Cali, smokin', smokin' up the Cali
I'll pull up the Henny, Coke and light up that dro

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00daaffe40554fcf88bab032e49ebb7d

Blaze It - Lyrics - Art Of War - Bone Thugs N Harmony

Title: Blaze It
Album: Art Of War
Artist: Bone Thugs N Harmony
Composer(s): Steven Howse, Charles Scruggs, Tim Middleton, Larry Blackmon, Anthony Henderson, Byron Mccane

Lyric:
So high, so high, so high, so high
So high, so high, so high, so high
(I'm so high)
So high, so high, so high, so high
So high, so high, so high

If reefer really makes you happy nigga blaze it
Hell yeah, hell yeah
If reefer really makes you happy nigga blaze it
Hell yeah, hell yeah

Straight smokin', tokin', rollin' blunts and ya lovin'
(Smokin' tokin', smokin' dope)
Straight smokin', tokin', rollin' blunts and ya lovin'
(Smokin' tokin', smokin' dope)
Straight smokin', tokin', rollin' blunts and ya lovin'
(Smokin' tokin', smokin' dope)
Straight smokin', tokin', rollin' blunts and ya lovin'
(Smokin' tokin', smokin' dope)

We alright, we alright
Hell yeah, we feelin' alright
We alright, we alright
Hell yeah, we feelin' alright

I been fucked up since the last weed song
P.O.D.'d the whole night long
Said I been fucked up since the last weed song
P.O.D.'d the whole night long

If reefer really makes you happy nigga blaze it
Hell yeah, hell yeah
If reefer really makes you happy nigga blaze it
Hell yeah, hell yeah

If reefer really makes you happy nigga blaze it
Hell yeah, hell yeah
If reefer really makes you happy nigga blaze it
Hell yeah, hell yeah

Straight smokin', tokin', rollin' blunts and ya lovin'
(Smokin' tokin', smokin' dope)
Straight smokin', tokin', rollin' blunts and ya lovin'
(Smokin' tokin', smokin' dope)
Straight smokin', tokin', rollin' blunts and ya lovin'
(Smokin' tokin', smokin' dope)
Straight smokin', tokin', rollin' blunts and ya lovin'
(Smokin' tokin', smokin' dope)

We alright, we alright
Hell yeah, we feelin' alright

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600fdc36d636fb308ec4f46fa32ecb30

Smokin' In The Boys Room - Lyrics - Red, White, & Crue - Motley Crue

Title: Smokin' In The Boys Room
Album: Red, White, & Crue
Artist: Motley Crue
Composer(s): Michael G. Lutz, Michael Koda

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Lyric:
Did you ever seem to have one of those days
When everyone's on your case
From your teacher all the way down to your best girlfriend
Well, you know, I used to have it just about all the time
But I found a way to get out of it
Let me tell you about

Sittin' in the classroom, thinkin' it's a drag
Listening to the teacher rap, just ain't my bag
[Incomprehensible] bells ring, you know it's my cue
I'm gonna meet the boys on floor number 2

Smokin' in the boys room
Smokin' in the boys room
Nah, teacher don't you fill me up with your rules
'Cause everybody knows that smokin' ain't allowed in school

Checkin' out the hall makin' sure the coast is clear
Lookin' in the stalls, nah, there ain't nobody here
My buddy Sixx, Mick and Tom
To get caught would surely be the death of us all

Smokin' in the boys room
Aah, we're smokin' in the boys room
Nah, teacher don't you fill me up with your rules
'Cause everybody knows that smokin' ain't allowed in school
Hey, could I be excused?

Well, put me to work in the school bookstore
Checkout counter and I got bored
Teacher was lookin' for me all around
Two hours later you know where I was found

Smokin' in the boys room
I tell you, I was smokin' in the boys room
Nah, nah, nah, teacher don't you fill me up with your rule
Everybody knows that smokin' ain't allowed in school
Everybody

Smokin' in the boys room
Smokin' in the boys room
I tell you, I was smokin' in the boys room
Smokin' in the boys room

Hey, teacher don't you fill me up with your rule
'Cause everybody knows that smokin' ain't allowed in school
One more

Smokin' in the boys room
Smokin' in the boys room
Now, teacher I'm foolin' around with your rule
'Cause everybody knows that smokin' ain't allowed in school

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03468ce5300ff31507d1a5e3b22f5578

Smokin' Dro - Lyrics - Golden Grain - Disturbing Tha Peace

Title: Smokin' Dro
Album: Golden Grain
Artist: Disturbing Tha Peace
Composer(s): Christopher Bria Bridges, Taheed Epps, Ed Greene, Arbie Wilson

Lyric:
I'm smokin' dro, choppin' O's
Beat knockin' with the big blaze choppin' nigga
I'm smokin' dro, choppin' O's
Ridin' dirty, candy paint, lookin' purty

See I'm addicted to this fast life, it's hard to slow me down
When ya, momma on the crack pipe and ya daddy ain't around
You hear the sounds of the wildest gunshots from a large clip
When we started choppin' O's off in this empty apartment

See I was, standin' in the track, and my back is the target
With a hammer on my side lookin' like I'm layin' carpets
See you flip it 'til you get it nigga, we hangin' like this cable
On my way, to I-20 nigga I gotta play in Decatur

See I'm ridin' and I'm blowin' on twenty dollar bills
'Cause we, only got that gold; you can't buy regular around here
Stayin' true to the prestige and the economic status
I still stacked 100 G's stayin' in my momma's attic

Stackin' under Kraft-matics, Willie sleepin' on the cheese
See we got ki's and the D's and the P's and TV's
And I'm ridin' in C.P. with a glock-40 as my tooley
On the block, with the top back, blowin' out that booty up

I'm smokin' dro, choppin' O's
Beat knockin' with the big blaze choppin' nigga
I'm smokin' dro, choppin' O's
Ridin' dirty, candy paint, lookin' purty

I'm smokin' dro, choppin' O's
Beat knockin' with the big blaze choppin' nigga
I'm smokin' dro, choppin' O's
Ridin' dirty, candy paint, lookin' purty

You know I-20 ridin' Regal's - cuttin' cutters
Since my wood grains got no stains; be in some other shit
A big body Chevy on the, chrome lookin' pretty
If it's dro, or the sticky I need, I'm hittin' Tity

On my system knock so loud, they call the cops on me
Ladies show that ass proud, and make it drop for me
This is how a nigga ride, in A.T.L.
And if the twelve drop pull me over, I hide the scales

Blowin' dro out the song booth, with windows tinted
Ridin' clean down Old Campbellton Road, y'all know who in it
Got my seat pushed way back, arm out the window
Niggaz quick to pull a car-jack, armed when they in [Incomprehensible]

I push a Range and my brother Fate in S.S. Impala
Ludacris, with the Escalade, and Tit' quickly follow
Gettin ready for the summer get your cars out and fix it
When it comes to that ridin' and smoke, look I'm addicted nigga

I'm smokin' dro, choppin' O's
Beat knockin' with the big blaze choppin' nigga
I'm smokin' dro, choppin' O's
Ridin' dirty, candy paint, lookin' purty

I'm smokin' dro, choppin' O's
Beat knockin' with the big blaze choppin' nigga
I'm smokin' dro, choppin' O's
Ridin' dirty, candy paint, lookin' purty

Yo, gotta get that monkey off my back, sir
I'm smokin' dro and choppin' O's up in my 'llac, sir
Where the fuck you at when them little bitty animals attack, sir?
I'm in the trap and when I get caught up in a rap-ture relax, sir

It's like cata-racts to me, ac-tually it has to be
A fac-tory of smoke and clouds I'm chok-in proud
And Rhap-sody, the sack of trees is wrote and now
So pot-ent now the track is squeezed

So clap and be happy to be nappy and snappin'
Just keep on rappin' but nobody comes af-ter me
One hit from the blunt then I stop drop, roll
Really really wanna fuck with the glock, glock? No

They so simple better hit that block, slow
On yo' mark, get get ready, set, go
You could watch this Georgia tech' blow
If I don't get some of that wet wet wet wet dro

I'm smokin' dro, choppin' O's
Beat knockin' with the big blaze choppin' nigga
I'm smokin' dro, choppin' O's
Ridin' dirty, candy paint, lookin' purty

I'm smokin' dro, choppin' O's
Beat knockin' with the big blaze choppin' nigga
I'm smokin' dro, choppin' O's
Ridin' dirty, candy paint, lookin' purty

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b8e57fcaa8e478d58b0a8856a9f48009

Smokin' 45 (Original Unused Track) - Lyrics - Bad Company

Title: Smokin' 45 (Original Unused Track)
Artist: Bad Company
Composer(s): Tim Hinckley, Peter Sinfield, Boz Burrell

Lyric:
Yeah, hey, I've seen the Bad Lands
I've held a whirlwind in my hand
Slept in the center
Whiskey has washed away the sand, yeah

Gamblers who cheated and sheriffs who lied
The last thing they saw from the death that they died
Was my Smokin' 45, my smokin' 45

Ten thousand dollars, that's what I'm worth dead or alive
Six loaded chambers, ten men rode up not one survived
They got my name on the telegraph wire
Dead men's faces and a gun that's for hire

Gamblers who cheated and Sheriffs who lied
The last thing they saw from the death that they died
Was my smokin' 45, my smokin' 45, yeah

I'm riding south to the Mexico line
Posse behind me and they're making good time
Men with vendetta's, who shouldn't have tried
To reach for quick fame with a gun at their side

Against my smokin' 45, my smokin' 45, my smokin' 45
I'm talking about my smokin' 45

My smokin' 45, smokin' 45, smokin' 45

Gonna get you, can depend my friend
Gonna get you, dead or alive
My smokin', smokin', smokin' 45, yeah

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770d2e03ac594f16946d7e254dfe8152

Smokin' In The Boys' Room - Lyrics - Brownsville Station

Title: Smokin' In The Boys' Room
Artist: Brownsville Station
Composer(s): Michael G. Lutz, Michael Koda

Lyric:
How you doin' out there y'ever seem to have one of those days
Where it just seems like everybody's gettin' on your case
From your teacher all the way down to your best girlfriend
Well, y'know, I used to have 'em just about all the time
But I found a way to get out of 'em let me tell you about it

Sitting in the classroom thinking it's a drag
Listening to the teacher rap just ain't my bag
The noon bells ring you know that's my cue
I'm gonna meet the boys on floor number two

Smokin' in the boys room
Smokin' in the boys room
Now, teacher, don't you fill me up with your rules
But everybody knows that smokin' ain't allowed in school

A-checkin' out the halls makin' sure the coast is clear
Lookin' in the stalls, no, there ain't nobody here
Oh, my buddy Fang, and me and Paul
To get caught would surely be the death of us all

Smokin' in the boys room, yeah
Smokin' in the boys room
Now, teacher, don't you fill me up with your rules
But everybody knows that smokin' ain't allowed in school
All right

Oh, put me to work in the school book store
Check out counter and I got bored
Teacher was lookin' for me all around
Two hours later you know where I was found

Smokin' in the boys room, yes indeed
I was smokin' in the boys room
Now, teacher, don't you fill me up with your rules
But everybody knows that smokin' ain't allowed in school
One mo'

Smokin' in the boys room
Oh, smokin' in the boys room
Now, teacher, I am fully aware of the rules
But everybody knows that smokin' ain't allowed in school

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819d6139f6123164d705fc6eb8b9b9aa

Smokin &Amp; Ridin - Lyrics - Pain Is Love - Ja Rule

Title: Smokin &Amp; Ridin
Album: Pain Is Love
Artist: Ja Rule
Composer(s): Christopher Bristol, Marcus Vest, Irving Lorenzo, Jeffrey Atkins, S Aurelius, Chris Black, Otha Miller

Lyric:
Gangsta, you know
Huh, gangsta, c'mon, hehe
Uhh, got my nigga Vin Diesel in the house, you know
Number one movie in the country and all that
Haha! Yo

Nuttin but some gangsters, smokin' and ridin'
Come on, get high with us
Come on and ride with us

'Cause we're nuttin but some gangsters, smokin' and ridin'
Come on, get high with us
Come on and ride with us

Hey baby, c'mon and hop in my fo'-three-oh, S E
And let's see how quick you fall victim to this G
I'm a gangsta, bitch, a mack like Goldie
But I never let the strength of this money control me

Niggaz is somethin' like pimps, the Rule is an O.G.
I make three G's a day, thirty-three a week
And my hoes hardly speak, they smoke while they ride
Just blowin' the driver, when I'm one car behind you

Nuttin but some gangsters on Daytons and lowriders
And three-wheel motion, bumpin' Tha Eastsidaz
I love Cali-for-ni-ay, on a hot day
Where the green is wetter and the head is even better

So get high tonight and if you rollin' like I'm rollin'
You ridin' right and if she fuckin' with them gangstas
Ain't nuttin nice and if you knowin' what I'm knowin'
Then live your life

'Cause we're nuttin but some gangsters, smokin' and ridin'
Come on, get high with us
Come on and ride with us

'Cause we're nuttin but some gangsters, smokin and ridin'
Come on, get high with us
Come on and ride with us

'Cause we're nuttin but some gangsters

Ridin' by in them big trucks
Chrome wheels spinnin' and killin' niggaz with big bucks
See baby, I came up from bein' a thug
From a nigga sellin' them drugs on the corner throwin' up slugs

Show me love! All of y'all biches wanna ride with us
Mask and gloves! Up when it's time to fuck bitches
Wanna be loved! All you get is hard dick off the drugs
Pass the bud! Yo bitch, I ain't seen none of that dub

But give me that Remi, a half a bottle already in me
I cop a ounce from one stizzy and smoke 'til I'm dizzy
Who ridin' with me? Both of y'all bitches slide right in
Just me, you and your friend, I'll be fuckin' y'all 'til the mornin'

C'mon, I love bitches with thongs on that love to get it on
With gangsters, leavin' they pussies warm
'Til like four in the mornin', baby girl, I'm gone
Hop in the 6, devour your lawn, bitch

'Cause we're nuttin but some gangsters, smokin' and ridin'
Come on, get high with us
Come on and ride with us

'Cause we're nuttin but some gangsters, smokin' and ridin'
Come on, get high with us
Come on and ride with us

'Cause we're nuttin but some gangsters

Holla! And if you 'bout the dollars then pop your collars
'Cause we ain't nuttin but some gangsters, nigga smokin' and ridin
Who put it down for real, got this dough multiplyin'

Straight, livin' it up and fuckin' with thugs
That push trucks that's sittin' on dubs, not givin' a fuck
Y'all niggaz know me, Chris Black slash the O.G.
So please believe I'm gangsta, I control these streets

Yo, nobody leaves, nobody breathes until I enter the party
And ease up in a 550 Medina Ferrari
Pull in handicapped parkin', hop out with the lock in
And wink at the hoes while I walk in

Who's ridin' and smokin' tonight with players?
And I ain't talkin' 'bout them niggaz with them Marvin gators
I'm talkin' 'bout them niggaz all up in fronts and gauges
And runnin' up in spots and blazin', we call them gangsters, yo!

Nuttin but some gangsters, smokin' and ridin'
Come on, get high with us
Come on and ride with us

'Cause we're nuttin but some gangsters, smokin' and ridin'
Come on, get high with us
Come on and ride with us

'Cause we're nuttin but some gangsters, smokin' and ridin'
Come on, get high with us
Come on and ride with us

'Cause we're nuttin but some gangsters, smokin' and ridin'
Come on, get high with us
Come on and ride with us

'Cause we're nuttin but some gangsters

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Dope Smokin Moron - Lyrics - Replacements

Title: Dope Smokin Moron
Artist: Replacements
Composer(s): Paul Westerberg, Chris Mars, Tommy Stinson, Robert Stinson

Lyric:
Saw your van on the sand and I don't understand
Tell me why you do it 'cause you understand
Look at where you're goin' before you go insane
Your pills and your booze and you're not the same

Dope smokin moron, don't make me yawn
Dope smokin moron, don't make me yawn
Dope smokin moron, don't make me
Don't make me, don't make me yawn

I keep thinking wonderin' why you do it to yourself
You parents say you do it your way, do what I said
You're cruisin' and you're losin' it on the side
Took this turn, keep doin' it, you're gonna die

Dope smokin moron, don't make me yawn
Dope smokin moron, don't make me yawn
Dope smokin moron, don't make me
Don't make me, don't make me yawn

Dope smokin moron, don't make me yawn
Hey, Merle, I was wonderin' if ya had any 'ludes on ya?
[Incomprehensible]

[Incomprehensible]
Dope smokin moron, don't make me yawn
Dope smokin moron, don't make me yawn
Dope smokin moron, don't make me
Don't make me, don't make me yawn

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f3e627f1359cc62add09021ec34ed527

Say Whaatt - Lyrics - Keith Murray

Title: Say Whaatt
Artist: Keith Murray
Composer(s): Keith Omar Murray, Phalon Alexander, Reggie Noble

Lyric:
One two, one two, Keith Murray and Jazze Pha
Servin' 'em well and as you all know we are crunk as hell

Woke up at 8:30 on a Saturday morn'
Grab my remote control, cut my stereo on
Got up took a dump as I smoke some trees
And my stomach started growling for some egg MC's

I am hard core heavyweight B-boy flex
Other rappers try to flex but they soft as sex
High heels in the kitchen fixin' me a hot meal
Wipe my ass ran the faucet, then I brush my grill

Jumped in the shower, it was boiling hot
So I stayed there an hour 'cause I like it a lot
Back to my room and throw on some fresh gear
Tank top, white tees and some Nike airs

Then I'm interrupted by the ring on the phone
Def Jam Kevin Liles tellin' me that it's on
Saying Murray meet me, Lyor and Russell
You provide the heat and we'll provide you wit' that Def Jam muscle

So I said yeah I'm wit it 'cause you know I'm prepared
Put me in proper position and I'm takin' it there
I hung up the phone, went outside
And hopped in the six to bust a joy ride

Yo, dog how many wanna ride wit us and
How many wanna smoke wit us, say what?
Now how many wanna junk wit us and
How many wanna thug wit us, say what?

Now yell if you wanna roll wit us
Yell if you wanna get dough wit us, say what?
Ride smokin', ride smokin', ride
Ride smokin',ride, say what?

One o'clock on the dot is when I hit the block
Sunshine cold beamin' off ya face from my watch
I'm a monsta on these beats also on these streets
Hit the corner then I bumped into some beautiful freaks

They said, ?Murray hold up, stop, wait
Hit the brakes rims spinnin' like roller skates?
Conversing with the skeeza's for ten minutes more
Hopped back in the ride and then I slammed the door

Ridin' through your city wit the hard core beat
Stopped by the spot so I can get somethin' to eat
The way I wine and dine people think I do crime
They don't know I'm just a connoisseur of hip hop rhymes

So I got my meal and I said my grace
Thinkin' 'bout the next millions that I'll soon make
Lookin' at the clock it said deuce square tre
Wit Georgia on my mind I two wayed Jazzy Pha

Yo, dog how many wanna ride wit us and
How many wanna smoke wit us, say what?
Now how many wanna junk wit us and
How many wanna thug wit us, say what?

Now yell if you wanna roll wit us
Yell if you wanna get dough wit us, say what?
Ride smokin', ride smokin', ride
Ride smokin',ride, say what?

I heard you suckas don't like me but I ain't concerned
It must be the pretty bitties or the pay that I earn
I'm growin' and blowin' all up in yo face
Put ya head to the speaker break ya neck to the base

I'm extraterrestrial so expeditious
The first nigga to ever bust a verse on a Lexus
Sucka duck nigga think that they be the man
I don't even say nothin' I just wave my hand

Yo, dog how many wanna ride wit us and
How many wanna smoke wit us, say what?
Now how many wanna junk wit us and
How many wanna thug wit us, say what?

Yell if you wanna roll wit us
Yell if you wanna get dough wit us, say what?
Ride smokin', ride smokin', ride
Ride smokin', ride, say what?

Yo, dog how many wanna ride wit us and
How many wanna smoke wit us, say what?
Now how many wanna junk wit us and
How many wanna thug wit us, say what?

Now yell if you wanna roll wit us
Yell if you wanna get dough wit us, say what?
Ride smokin', ride smokin', ride
Ride smokin',ride, say what?

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61b2acdd6467f4e7c163faace71e5302

Wasting Time - Lyrics - Devil Without A Cause - Kid Rock

Title: Wasting Time
Album: Devil Without A Cause
Artist: Kid Rock
Composer(s): Lindsey Buckingham, R.J. Ritchie, Matthew Shafer

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
I'm a pimp, you can check my stats
And rollin' a Fleetwood that's how I mack
I rock all the tracks, so the world knows
I love all the girls, smack all the hoes

Show love to those who come real with it
Life's a bitch but I deal with it
I'm in it to win it like Yzerman
Can drink about fifteen Heinekins

I'm not born again but if I was
I'd ask to come back with a little more love
Puffin' the Winston, drinkin' a four-oh
Kid Rock and I'm a let you know

I been sittin' here just wastin' time
Drinkin', smokin', thinkin', tryin' to free my mind
I been sittin' here just wastin' time
Drinkin', smokin', tryin' to free my mind

It's been a couple of months in this smoky room
Eatin' shrooms, drinking Boone's
Writin' tunes and Chopin' to get
One of these motherfuckin' songs to hit

A little bit of love that's all I need
A little inspiration and a bag of weed
A seed to plant so my tree can grow
You know I left my girl 'cause I don't need that

Hold up, wait a minute, I'm about to flow
Like a breeze through the trees you can watch me blow
Puffin' the Winston, drinkin' a four-oh
Kid Rock and I'm a let you know

I been sittin' here just wastin' time
Drinkin', smokin', thinkin', tryin' to free my mind
I been sittin' here just wastin' time
Drinkin', smokin', tryin' to free my mind

Oh yeah, oh yeah
Free my mind
Ooh yeah
Come on
Uh uh oww

I ain't no rough guy, ain't no tough guy
Don't get out much, and don't dress up fly
A pawn in the game that's all I am
Givin' all my duckets to Uncle Sam, fuck it

I'm free to do what I please little lady
I was born at night, but not last night baby
I've been around, seen some things
I've slept in dumpsters, got high with Kings

I don't bring much, ain't got a lot to say
But I got more time then Morris Day
Puffin' the Winston, drinkin' a four-oh
Kid Rock and I'm a let you know

I been sittin' here just wastin' time
Drinkin', smokin', thinkin', tryin' to free my mind
I been sittin' here just wastin' time
Drinkin', smokin', tryin' to free my mind
(Smokin' and drinkin')

I been sittin' here just wastin' time
Drinkin', smokin', thinkin', tryin' to free my mind
(Tryin' to free my mind)

I been sittin' here just wastin' time
Drinkin', smokin', tryin' to free my mind

Wastin' my time, hey, I'm smokin'
Hey, I'm drinkin', tryin' to free my mind
I been sittin' here just wastin' time
Drinkin', smokin', tryin' to free my mind

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554a1f22bb5913ec4de9b35a12077e07

I Get High - Lyrics - The Hunger for More - Lloyd Banks

Title: I Get High
Album: The Hunger for More
Artist: Lloyd Banks
Composer(s): Tony Cotrell, C. Broadus, C. Jackson, C. Lloyd

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
I know, I ain't supposed to smoke in here
But Mr. Bouncer Man
Don't put your motherfuckin' hands on me
(Can I get high)
Without you botherin' me

Everybody you see in here tonight's
Doin' the same thing, so why you keep player hatin' on me?
(Can I get high)
Without you botherin' me
Ay, did you hit this shit?

That la lah-lah, I be smokin'
Be gettin' me right, I be loc'n
Them bullshit trees, you be rollin'
Barely gives you a buzz, me I get high

That la lah-lah, I be smokin'
Be gettin' me right, I be loc'n
Them bullshit trees, you be rollin'
Barely gives you a buzz, me I get high

I admit I got a problem, I keep comin' back for these
Doe-doe bags, and not your 'gnac or your sack of seeds
I chill, sit back on the sofa and relax my knees
And roll one up loose enough to make the backwards breathe

I blow a heavy load, you can subtract some G's
'Cause I'm a smoker, too much of this to choke ya
I don't mean to provoke ya, but I'm a bad influence
A musician can't operate without his instruments

My recent success rapidly got your bitch convinced
Haters mad they can't look inside 'cause I pitched the tints
I enter the club with baggies of that chocolate
The secondhand smoke'll make a nigga wanna start shit

Sometimes I think 'bout where the niggaz from the start went
Raise up a lighter and fuck up the whole apartment
It's just one of them things that I do with my spare time
My bad habits ain't private, so I'ma share mine

That la lah-lah, I be smokin'
Be gettin' me right, I be loc'n
Them bullshit trees, you be rollin'
Barely gives you a buzz, me I get high

That la lah-lah, I be smokin'
Be gettin' me right, I be loc'n
Them bullshit trees, you be rollin'
Barely gives you a buzz, me I get high

Now they put they hands out, 'cause of the way shit bend
So you niggaz ain't smokin' if you don't chip in
Listen I waited long for these rocks to glisten
From that one-room pad without a pot to piss in

Over betrayal is not forgiven
I do this for my niggaz locked up that's comin' home to lobster livin'
Helpin' the cop's forbidden, 'bout to buy momma her own mansion
Just so I can see her pop the ribbon

That Cali bud special, so special I held the blunt so long
Snoop had to tell me, "Pass the weed nephew!"
Fuck rap, I'm the wrong one to get pissed off
'Cause the pump'll make you "Jump" like Kris Kross

My nigga dead and it's hard to let go
So I'm blowin' on that wet doe, same color as Gecko
We follow hood codes and everybody in the set know
We gas 'em, fuck 'em and pass 'em, what you expect ho?

That la lah-lah, I be smokin'
Be gettin' me right, I be loc'n
Them bullshit trees, you be rollin'
Barely gives you a buzz, me I get high

That la lah-lah, I be smokin'
Be gettin' me right, I be loc'n
Them bullshit trees, you be rollin'
Barely gives you a buzz, me I get high

Say 'gain won't you blow it with the best of them
Yes yes I blessted them, blazed up the purple palm trees
I told dem don't mess wit dem, I hold dem no testament
Do you want to smoke wit me?

Weed rollin', G-strollin', bad-mouthin' muh'fucker
Law breakin', pimp slappin' niggaz for the fuck of it
Hip-Hoppin', ziplockin', riprockin' gang banger
"Thought you was an actor," thought I was a singer

Thought about ridin' if you say you wanna hang tough
D.P.G. unit sounds like danger
You might wanna manage your anger
Hang with us and stop smokin' on the same stuff

Now lay back on the law
This new weed that I got I call it face off
'Cause it'll blow your face off and that's a figure of speech
My niggaz a beast, on me from the West to the East, preach!

That la lah-lah, I be smokin'
Be gettin' me right, I be loc'n
Them bullshit trees, you be rollin'
Barely gives you a buzz, me I get high

That la lah-lah, I be smokin'
Be gettin' me right, I be loc'n
Them bullshit trees, you be rollin'
Barely gives you a buzz, me I get high

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d956f718d86a451a23bde3665ec7d8d9

Catch Up (Incognegro Album) - Lyrics - Incognegro - Ludacris

Title: Catch Up (Incognegro Album)
Album: Incognegro
Artist: Ludacris
Composer(s): Arbie Wilson, Christopher Bria Bridges, Bobbie Sandmanie

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
All this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck

And all this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck

Now, let me be quite Frank 'cause I'm that crazy nigga Luda
Always got a drink and I'm steady smokin' buddah
I do the evil that'll bend you when I get you
I'ma sit you down then take it to the mental and essential and clown

Every chance I get, bitch I'm hit not by no bullet or no pellet
But the smoke from the can a beer, shit, I might just be too high
Then I put my middle finger up when I'm ridin' by
And say hi to plenty liquors and I know it's a sin

And if ya tell me stop drinkin' I'll just do it again
So when I get old I'ma rock, roll, shake and shiver
With some blacked out lungs and a fucked up liver

All this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck

And all this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck

Ey yo, I do this for bluntheads and whinos, steward Ave. Homes
Niggaz from G-Ro committed to slangin' blo, doublin' dough 24-7
Fuck po-po's I'm blowin' dro out the AC Legend, runnin' wit 2 strike felons
And I pack 4-4's like Hank Aaron, then'll smoke a L, bust shells

And dare ya to tell, walk up in the club, pretty thug
Fucked up off head shots, sippin' Courvoisier watchin' hoes
Drop it like it's hot, shakin' tits and twats
Placin' big face 20's and cock, loadin' clips and glocks

Knowin' we got the haters hot, the ballin' don't stop
Just drop more G's on drink and drugs
Live it up young nigga 'cause it's gon' catch up

All this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck

And all this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck

Now, wit the help of Hen and Coke, I grab my pen and pad and wrote
Somethin' that I knew was dope and represent for my kinfolk
Pimp a hoe until she broke wit mo lines than chopped coke
Ey yo it's 2-0 I'm Eastside's King but I'm a writer with a twist of Amaretto

My shit even come out better, grab a blunt put it together
What a nigga really need, run up in the club
And blow a motherfucker til he bleed
Could it be an Icehouse put his lights out

Or the club get closed out, if it's hoes out I show out
Call Tyheed get Dro'd out, there's no doubt I love my life
Love the light, love to write, love the mic
So take a drag, grab a bag and match up
Hennessey and bad weed, believe me it catch up

All this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck

And all this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck

Get it right, Ludacris, F.A.T.E. Fullster
Infamous 2-0, ATL
We are the dirty south's dirtiest
Disturbing the peace

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bc12451bfbda617350465c2c75b2fef2

Catch Up (Back For The First Time Album) - Lyrics - Back For The First Time - Ludacris

Title: Catch Up (Back For The First Time Album)
Album: Back For The First Time
Artist: Ludacris
Composer(s): Arbie Wilson, Christopher Bria Bridges, Bobbie Sandmanie

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
All this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck

And all this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck

Now, let me be quite Frank 'cause I'm that crazy nigga Luda
Always got a drink and I'm steady smokin' buddah
I do the evil that'll bend you when I get you
I'ma sit you down then take it to the mental and essential and clown

Every chance I get, bitch I'm hit not by no bullet or no pellet
But the smoke from the can a beer, shit, I might just be too high
Then I put my middle finger up when I'm ridin' by
And say hi to plenty liquors and I know it's a sin

And if ya tell me stop drinkin' I'll just do it again
So when I get old I'ma rock, roll, shake and shiver
With some blacked out lungs and a fucked up liver

All this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck

And all this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck

Ey yo, I do this for bluntheads and whinos, steward Ave. Homes
Niggaz from G-Ro committed to slangin' blo, doublin' dough 24-7
Fuck po-po's I'm blowin' dro out the AC Legend, runnin' wit 2 strike felons
And I pack 4-4's like Hank Aaron, then'll smoke a L, bust shells

And dare ya to tell, walk up in the club, pretty thug
Fucked up off head shots, sippin' Courvoisier watchin' hoes
Drop it like it's hot, shakin' tits and twats
Placin' big face 20's and cock, loadin' clips and glocks

Knowin' we got the haters hot, the ballin' don't stop
Just drop more G's on drink and drugs
Live it up young nigga 'cause it's gon' catch up

All this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck

And all this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck

Now, wit the help of Hen and Coke, I grab my pen and pad and wrote
Somethin' that I knew was dope and represent for my kinfolk
Pimp a hoe until she broke wit mo lines than chopped coke
Ey yo it's 2-0 I'm Eastside's King but I'm a writer with a twist of Amaretto

My shit even come out better, grab a blunt put it together
What a nigga really need, run up in the club
And blow a motherfucker til he bleed
Could it be an Icehouse put his lights out

Or the club get closed out, if it's hoes out I show out
Call Tyheed get Dro'd out, there's no doubt I love my life
Love the light, love to write, love the mic
So take a drag, grab a bag and match up
Hennessey and bad weed, believe me it catch up

All this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck

And all this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck

Get it right, Ludacris, F.A.T.E. Fullster
Infamous 2-0, ATL
We are the dirty south's dirtiest
Disturbing the peace

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609741fa71abb83faf20ef2eee0e5992

Days Of Our Lives - Lyrics - Bone Thugs N Harmony

Title: Days Of Our Lives
Artist: Bone Thugs N Harmony
Composer(s): Steven Howse, Terry Lewis, Charles Scruggs, James Iii Harris, Bryon Mccane, Tim Middleton, Anthony Henderson

Lyric:
Bone bone bone bone, wasteland soldier
These are the days of our lives
I be strugglin' and hustlin' and thuggin' it forever
Come and look deeply in my eyes
I be strugglin' and hustlin' and thuggin' it forever and ever
Bone, gat 'em for eternal warfare

Only time will tell who dies
Only time will tell who dies
These are the days of our lives
Come look deeply in my eyes
These are the days of our lives

See the murder mo the lies
These are the days of our lives
These are the days of our lives
These are the days of our lives

Now come into my world and you can see
That we are more than thugs
With just a little twist of harmony
Bud smokin' lethal warriors

Now come into my world and you can see that
We are more than thugs
With just a little twist of harmony
Bud smokin' lethal warriors

Eternally thugs but now I come tellin' them soldia stories
Me daily collectin' my lesson without a good question
Without any question, stressin' no restin' me jammin' this blessin'

Shouldn't be angry rangin' 'cause once this world
Was bringi'n me down mesmerized controlled
By the otha side not knowin' who was in my town lookin' for me

But he won't get me in time fuck with
Bone in tha glock and these rhymes we rhyme
Betta believe it's all tha time nigga we ride
We straight up soldiaz ready and I told ya
We walk before we go roll and nigga we ride all of y'all

Y'all my dogs if you call if you fall you can bet on that
Nigga that I will be there lean on me but let us get rid of tha enemy
Strictly for singin' that wild wild if you think you can hang

Now come into my world and you can see
That we are more than thugs
With just a little twist of harmony
Bud smokin' lethal warriors

Now come into my world and you can see that
We are more than thugs
With just a little twist of harmony
Bud smokin' lethal warriors

Thuggin' in the studio y'all know we roll hydro every time
We rhyme I'm high look at me deeply in my eyes I rise
Stay on top of the game, nowhere did I had to run
No way did I had to turn sherm but a lot of these niggas won't learn
With the money that I earn won't burn so come again

Betta watch that mac-ten nigga this one's for me and my friends
We steadily rollin' I told ya keep bringin' mo' platinum, they know us
Pap pap put it all in tha ground yeah, Bone, yeah, we used to get down
With tha clack back put it on the ground, now get down

Now it must be cops stroll when I roll in a hindo indo standin'
All out of my window singin' Little Eazy, bless his soul, it's so cold
But he doesn't got stress for the peeps the streets and none of these
Ponies homies call me screw 'em, puffed up tha weed and smoke

Now come into my world and you can see
That we are more than thugs
With just a little twist of harmony
Bud smokin' lethal warriors

Now come into my world and you can see that
We are more than thugs
With just a little twist of harmony
Bud smokin' lethal warriors

And it ain't no mystery the fist of weed and I betta put it inna
Me sneakers little ripsta scripture sistah
When you see me I don't want that weeders say they in
Baby, don't we have to give up one for my friends

Twinny twin, twin not once did I give up defeat so
So who wanna bag who wanna bag you wanna bag
You wanna bag you gotta bag, so send him off the docks
'Til my niggas off him across the road, only my Lord can tell who dies
So pick up the puzzle and pieces and put it to get tha of our lives

My Lordy Lord, maintain, it's hard 'cause I'm a soldia at war
'Cause everybody wanna try to pick out tha devil in me
But tha evil that's betta than me
He keeps me at ease take notes 'cause here we come

That murda mo coming to carry you oh you oh
They comin' to see me pullin' me gauge out
And put it up to ya temple and we'll blow your brain out
Ony bud smokin' lethal warriors

Now come into my world and you can see
That we are more than thugs
With just a little twist of harmony
Bud smokin' lethal warriors

Now come into my world and you can see that
We are more than thugs
With just a little twist of harmony
Bud smokin' lethal warriors

Only time will tell who dies
Come look deeply in my eyes
See the murda mo the lies
These are the days of our lives

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70e27ebce8c6f5817c24928c59ba90c6

Still Smokin' - Lyrics - Unpredictable - Mystikal

Title: Still Smokin'
Album: Unpredictable
Artist: Mystikal
Composer(s): Samuel C. Lindley, Michael Tyler

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
Still smokin' bud, still smokin' weed
King Edward, Philly Blunt, Swisha, keep groovin'
Tampa Sweet, good ol' Optimo
Easy water, joker

My lips get black and my fingertips burn
And my eyes half way open
Cough cough and I?m chokin'
But bitch, I?m still smokin'

I wanna be puffin' this like I ain?t be worryin' 'bout nothin'
If you gonna get the cigar, nigga I?ll do the stuffin'
I roll 'em swoll like broken arms
But I sure hate when they come around

This bitch I don?t know talkin' 'bout
What chall smokin' on
'Cause niggas like that, we call 'em Hoovers
They try to get cool with ya

To smoke your weed up is what they do ya
Puff, puff, puff, puff, goddammit
Nigga, you ain?t chip in no shit here
Bitch, what?s happenin'

But if you did, then it's good and it goin' down
Get rid of them nickels and them dimes
Bitch, we throwin' pounds
Tenth through 11th to the 12th ward bound

But P said one of my niggas
I heard somebody say one time
But I paid it no mind and I kept rollin'
But that was the Po Pos

I gotta get rid of this fat ass Optimo that I?m holdin'
Excellerate and I made that left on line center
I hit that bitch one more time, then threw it out the window
Young niggas in a big white truck

You know what's up, they?re lookin' to catch you fuckin' up
It just so happened that I was hot
They looked in the back on the floor
And the silver canon and they found the pot

I can?t believe that I got popped
It took me 2 hours and 1500 dollars to get unlocked
Straight from jail to the weed spot
Shit I took that as a minor setback

Hell no, I ain?t stop
And I?m still smokin' bud
Still smokin' weed

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73a9cef7ee1602d00f1a529c96b1c7e4

Smokin' The Hive - Lyrics - Randy Travis

Title: Smokin' The Hive
Artist: Randy Travis
Composer(s): George Byron Hill Iii, J. Remington Wilde

Lyric:
I was ten years old on my grandpa's farm when it happened
After all these years I can still hear Grandpa laughin'
As he applied that barn yard remedy
He passed his wisdom down to me
You don't reach for the honey without smokin' the hive

I remember my first crush was on the preacher's daughter
We were smoochin' on the front porch swing
That night when he caught her
We weren't expectin' him home until quarter past ten
When the good Lord, taught me that lesson again
You don't reach for the honey without smokin' the hive

You don't point a pistol before you check each chamber
An' you don't drink, no, you don't drink when you drive
It's just a ordinary common sense to avoid that danger
You don't reach for the honey without smokin' the hive

Well, she rolled into town with rodeo, she was a beauty
And that cowboy saw you wink at her, she was a cutie
The sound of jinglin' spurs caught me dead on a run
He was fit to be tied an' you were under the gun
You don't reach for that honey without smokin' the hive

You don't point a pistol before you check each chamber
And you don't drink, no, you don't drink when you drive
It's just a ordinary common sense to avoid that danger
And you don't reach for the honey without smokin' the hive
No, you don't reach for the honey without smokin' the hive

You're gonna get stung boy

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f2d49eb3125be9816af43ba1d889b7f6

Gin And Juice - Lyrics - Gourds

Title: Gin And Juice
Artist: Gourds
Composer(s): Mark Adams, Steve Arrington, Cordozar Broadus, Harry Casey, Richard Finch, Raymond Turner, Steve Washington, Daniel Webster, Andre Young

Lyric:
With so much drama in the L.B.C.
It's kinda hard bein' Snoop D-O-double-G
But I, somehow, some way
Keep comin' up with funky ass shit like every single day

May I kick a little something for the G's?
And, make a few ends as I breeze through
Two in the mornin' and the party's still jumpin'
'Cause my momma ain't home

I got bitches in the living room gettin' it on
And, they ain't leavin' 'til six in the mornin'
So what you wanna do? Shit, I got a pocket
Full of rubbers and my homeboys do too

So turn off the lights and close the doors
But, but what? We don't love them ho's, yeah
So we gonna smoke a ounce to this
G's up, hoes down, while you motherfuckers bounce to this

Rollin' down the street, smokin' endo
Sippin' on gin and juice, laid back
With my mind on my money
And my money on my mind

Rollin' down the street, smokin' endo
Sippin' on gin and juice, laid back
With my mind on my money
And my money on my mind

Now that I got me some Seagram's gin
Everybody got they cups, but they ain't chipped in
Now this type of shit happens all the time
You got to get yours but fool I gotta get mine

Everything is fine when you listenin' to the D-O-G
I got the cultivating music that be captivating he
Who listens, to the words that I speak
As I take me a drink to the middle of the street

And get to mackin' to this bitch named Sadie
She used to be the homeboys lady
(Oh, that bitch?)
Eighty degrees, when I tell that bitch please
Raise up off these N-U-T's, 'cause you gets none of these

At ease, as I mob with the Dogg Pound, feel the breeze
Bitch, I'm just

Rollin' down the street, smokin' endo
Sippin' on gin and juice, laid back
With my mind on my money
And my money on my mind

Rollin' down the street, smokin' endo
Sippin' on gin and juice, laid back
With my mind on my money
And my money on my mind

Later on that day, my homey
Dr. Dre came through with a gang of Tanqueray
And a fat ass J of some bubonic chronic
That made me choke, shit, this ain't no joke

I had to back up off of it and sit my cup down
Tanqueray and chronic, yeah, I'm fucked up now
But it ain't no stoppin', I'm still poppin'
Dre got some bitches from the city of Compton

To serve me, not with a cherry on top
'Cause when I bust my nut, I'm raisin' up off the cot
Don't get upset girl, that's just how it goes
I don't love you ho's, I'm out the do' and I'll be

Rollin' down the street, smokin' endo
Sippin' on gin and juice, laid back
With my mind on my money
And my money on my mind

Rollin' down the street, smokin' endo
Sippin' on gin and juice, laid back
With my mind on my money
And my money on my mind

Rollin' down the street, smokin' endo
Sippin' on gin and juice, bitch
With my mind on my money
And my money on my mind

Rollin' down the street, smokin' endo
Sippin' on gin and juice, bitch
With my mind on my money
And my money on my mind

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40 - Broccoli - Lyrics - E

Title: 40 - Broccoli
Artist: E
Composer(s): Earl T. Stevens, Anthony Banks, Larry Blackmon, Earl T Stevens

Lyric:
Let's get sick wid it, baby
Sick wid it, baby, yeah
Let's get sick wid it, baby
Said, I'm gonna get so sick wid it, yeah
Said I'm gonna get high

I don't need no doctor, I don't need no shrink
All I need is broccoli and a 40-oz to drink
Smokin' that broccoli now, takes me out
Smokin' that broccoli now, takes me out

While I was bullshittin'
Bitch tried to hit me upside the head with her shoe
talin' 'bout, "Who the fuck you been doin' it to?
Comin' home always smellin' like tuna fish and brew"

I said "Bitch, if you don't get up outta my talkin' face
I'ma slap you real tough-like
And I can almost rest assure you
That it ain't gon' be no pretty sight"

24-7 3 sixty fin
I pull out my dick and spell my name in my piss
Shoot the hundred fool, let's play for pink slips, whatchu slammin'
That there shit across the street? That ugly ass gremlin'

Buy some sticky, you got the pillow
Here go some Black 'n' Mild style, split it down the middle
What's that? That Oakland Crip? Nah it's that white widow
I was about to say cause they'd botha have your ass
Up in the hospital, check it out

I don't need no doctor, I don't need no shrink
All I need is broccoli and a 40-oz to drink
Smokin' that broccoli now, takes me out
Smokin' that broccoli now, takes me out
Smell me on this one, check it out

Hit up for five and hold it for ten, I'm true lung
Let's see who got the most wind, get 'em sprung
Make 'em wanna come back and spend, Afghani bomb
From juice and Seagram's Gin

Fuck all of that Cristal-poppin', drinkin' Moet shit, I'm from the block
Wheaties, Thunderbird, gorilla milk and Aftershock
Boom square wide country?, Wild Irish Rose
Smugglin' Hennessey and scotch, Jagermeister and Tequila shots

Drinkin' forty ounces was how I first got my figure
Then I graduated to straight malt liquor
So hah, let me take a swig of that Crown Royal
What you puttin' on that blunt huh? Hash oil

My Panamanian saha from south San Francisco
On some marijuana farm down in San Luis Obisbo
Wake yo' ass up Charlie Hustle, wake yo' ass up, why you asleep?
'Cause, nigga that shit got my twaskin' my life nigga, shit

Smokin' that broccoli now, takes me out
Smokin' that broccoli now, takes me out
I don't need no doctor, I don't need no shrink
All I need is broccoli and a 40-oz to drink

Seein' two's and three's
Highly intoxicated while I'm slidin' on a brim
Set of Z's and V's, spit Long Range Pimpin'
L-R P sophisticated wannabe's, stuck up H O E's
Disease-infested back-polluted pussy hoochie mamas, ooh ooh

Give a damn, make that 2 8 9, think I had a V8
Highly carburetor, four-barrel engine scram
Get gas, go in sideways, figured up like a philly
Ready, get that motherfucker hop up away

Everybody got the munchies and they ain't tryin' ta miss
We ride around the corner, nigga, there go Emmitt Smith
Webulation Bust a U-ey folker, oh as I'm hoppin' out
Damn that's my beeper, I got dinner at the house

The rules and regulations of the game up in the yay
Just slap a bitch, silly if she gets off in my way
She's open to all the brothers, forgive me grandma yay
Three or four different bitches, five or six different times a day

I don't need no doctor, I don't need no shrink
All I need is broccoli and a 40-oz to drink
Smokin' that broccoli now, takes me out
Smokin' that broccoli now, takes me out

Let's get sick wid it, baby
Let's get sick wid it, baby

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