Fuckin' Buddha comin' at'cha live
Direct with the biggest, fattest joint
Comin' in with indo flavors
Fuckin' Buddha comin' at'cha like this
'95

It's, Friday mornin', where the weed at?
Let me dip into my pocket for my fat weed sack
Cause I want to get high like a plane in the sky, with the indo cloud in my brain
Where the fuck are my zig-zags and my lighters?
So I can roll it and set it on fire
Damn, I wish I had scissors cause the shit is so sticky that it's gettin' on my fuckin' fingers
But it's smokeable, double tokeable
I got the one-hitter quitter Bombay shit that's tokeable
I want to do a joint venture
Let me make sure there ain't no lump in the god damn center
Impregnated lookin' joint, fuck it
I can smoke it and I still get faded

[Chorus: x4]
Roll it up, light it up, smoke it up
Inhale, exhale

(East Coast hittin' that blunt), West Coast hittin' that honeydip
Marijuana joint, then I want another hit
Roll it up, (light it up), smoke it up
I want to stimulate my mind (so I toke it up)
Can I get a hit? (Can I get a hooh!?)
Gimme that fat bag of weed and the brew so I can get faded, elevated
Smoke the joint down to a roach then I ate it
I stand true to the yesca, mota as I keep runnin' from the Chota
Gimme dat weed fool and ya zig-zags
(Puto don't be holdin' out on the big bag)

[Chorus]

Written By FREEZE, LOUIS M. / MUGGERUD, LARRY

Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group


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