| Grab me a swisher, cut it up and fill it with weed
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| Twist it, hit it, light it
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| Twist it, hit it, light it
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| That’s the, that’s the
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| Days I still may, I’m chiefin' hay, I’m still feelin' good
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| Dodgin' all you freak beasts, see me later alligators up to no good
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| Watch my head swell, watch me choke, I can’t take this dope
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| I’m blinder than a mothafucka, can’t see through this cloudy smoke
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| Paul and Crunchy Black brought a sizzack, got that hay for days
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| Lil Fly in a daze, Skinny, Scarecrow got some Mary J
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| Feelin' kinda nice, cigarette spice twice as nice as ice
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| I’m high as a eagle with no wings, full of ghetto hype
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| Lil Buck-ah I’m so stuck-ah, what the fuck-ah you put in this blunt?
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| Porterville, Olive Garden (?) got some (?) ass skunk
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| Chillin' in my chronic zone, I’m blinked to the fuckin' bone
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| Sack after sack plus a yac, now it’s on John
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| Kick back like a mack, that’s a fact, take a chill pill
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| Not no baby face but you know Gangsta got some dick-appeal
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| Twist it, hit it, light it; |
| that’s the way that shit’s supposed to go
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| Inhale real quick, now hold it, watch my nigga Skinny flow
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| Grab me a swisher, cut it up and fill it with weed
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| Twist it, hit it, light it
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| Twist it, hit it, light it
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| That’s the, that’s the
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| Smokin' dope, coughin' smoke with my nigga Gangsta Blac
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| Lil Gin got another sack (Lil Buck roll up somethin' fat!)
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| As we chief, sleep — woke, flamin' doobies in a five-one-oh
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| Similar to the gun through my nose
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| So high, H-A-Y, slice the blunt, light green shit
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| White boy Ricky keep that shit
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| So we choked up every night and day
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| Liquor store bound for the bumpin' face
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| Rent-a-room full of G’s, get 'em real high and take they cheese
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| That’ll work, I’m on up here on saturn while they down in earth
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| Smokin' babbage just like smokin' horse shit my nig
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| (We rollin' the swisher sweet fat as my dick
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| And you niggas guaranteed to get high off that shit!)
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| Blow a junt, let’s get drunk, cause we crunk off that skunk
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| Funk, blunt, head rush (whatever y’all do, don’t flirt on my crush)
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| (Get buck, get buck, get buck)
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| At the club we makin' hoes scream while them niggas shout
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| First we get hyped up mane, then we turn that bitch out
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| Bumpin' face got me fallin' on my face, playa
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| When it enter my body, don’t stop, I’m finna:
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| Grab me a swisher, cut it up and fill it with weed
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| Twist it, hit it, light it
|
| Twist it, hit it, light it
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| That’s the, that’s the |