(*guy toking up*) Fuckin buddha comin at'cha live Direct with the biggest, fattest joint Comin in with indo flavours Fuckin buddha comin at'cha like this '95
Verse 1: b-real
It's friday mornin, where the weed at? Let me dip into my pocket for my fat weed sack Cos i wanna 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 cos the shit is so sticky That it's gettin on my fuckin fingers But it's smokeable, double tokeable I got the one-hit that, where the bombay shit that's tokeable I wanna do a joint venture Let me make sure there ain't no lump in the goddamn centre To get pregnated lookin joint, fuck it I can smoke it and i still get faded
Chorus:
Roll it up, light it up, smoke it up Inhale exhale *repeat x3*
(i'm the freaker, the one freaks the funk *repeat*
Verse 2: (sen dogg), b-real
(east coast hittin that blunt), west coast hittin that honeydip Might he want a joint then i want another hit Roll it up, (light it up), smoke it up I wanna 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 guess guy ???? (as i keep runnin from the chop-per) Gimme dat weed fool and ya zig-zags (puto won't be holdin out on the big bag)
Chorus
(i'm the freaker, the one who freaks the funk) *repeat to fade*
