Tytuł: I got five on it
- Wykonawca: Luniz
- Wy¶wietleń: 393
Chorus:
people in Oakland...Oakland
woo, see I'm ridin higher and higher, woo-oo
kinda broke so ya know all I gots five, I got five
(Yukmouth)
player, give me some brew an I might just chill,
but I'm the type that like to light another joint like Cypress
Hill
I'm steal doobies
spit loogies when I puff on it,
I got some bucks on it,
but it ain't enuff on it
go get the S-t. I-d-e-s
never the less,
I'm hella Fresh,
rollin joints like a cigarrette
so pass it 'cross the table like Ping Pong,
I'm gone,
beatin' my chest like King Kong,
it's on,
wrap my lips around a 40,
and when it comes to get another stogie,
fools all kick in like Shinobi
no, me ain't my homie to begin with,
it's too many heads to be poppin' at my friend hit it
unless you pull out the phat, crispy
five dollar bill on the real before its history
cos fools be havin' them vaccum lungs,
an if you let 'em hit it for free,
you hellar "dum-dum-dum-dum"
I come to school with the taylor on my earlobe
avoidin' all the thick teasers, skeezers, and weirdos
that be blowin off the land like 'where tha bomb at?'
give me two bucks,
you take a puff,
and pass my bomb back
suck up the dank like a slurpy
the serious bomb will make a nigge go delirous like Eddie Murphy
I got more growin' pains than Maggie
cos homies nag me,
to take the dank out of the baggie
Chorus:
I got five on it,
grab your 40,
let's get keyed
I got five on it,
messin' wit that Indo weed
I got five on it,
it's got me stuck and not go back
I got five on it,
potna lets go half on a sac
(Knumskull)
I take sacks to the face,
whenever I can,
don't need no cruch
I'm so keyed up,
'till the joint be burnin' my hand
next time I roll it in a hampa
to burn slo,
so the ashes won't be burnin' up my hand, bra
hoochies can hit,
but they know they got to pitch in,
then I roll a joint that's longer than your extension
cos I'll be damned if you get high off me for free
hell naw, you betta bring your own spliff, cheif
wassup,
don't make me sip that,
better pass the
JOINT!
stop hittin' cos you know ya got Asthma
crack a 40 open, homie,
an guzzel it,
cos I know the weed in my system is gettin lonley
I gotta take a whiz test to my P-O
I know I failed cos I done smoked major weed bro,
an everytime we with Chris that fool rollin up a fattie,
but the Tanqueray straight had me
Chorus
(Knumskull)
hey, make this right man
stop at the light man,
my yester night thang got me hung off the night train
you fade, I face
so let's head to da east
hit the stroll to 9-0 so we can roll big, hot sheets
I wish I could fade the eighth
but I've no budget,
still rollin' a two door Cutlass same ole' bucket
foggy windows,
smokin' Indo,
I'm in tha land gettin smoked wit my kinfolk
(Yukmouth)
been smoked,
Yuk'll spray ya, lay ya down
up in the OAK the Town
homies don't play around,
we down to blaze a pound
then ease up,
speed up through the ESO,
drink the VSOP with a lemon squeeze up
and everybody's rolled up, I'm da roller
that's quick to fold a blunt out of a buncha sitcky dosia
hold up, suck up my weed is all you do
kick in feed, cause where I be's we need tab like a foo-foo
Chorus
