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Who wants weed cause I’m buying, smoking like Leo from that seventy’s show, no lying. Getting out my dreams, I do it, yeah you got some punch lines but I ain’t impressed, I’m fluent, you blew it. Why you tryna talk while b’ easy is speaking, know some plumbers with ratchets that might just leave you leaking, and they don’t give receipts for what I order, got the heat and some magical bud, nine and three quarters. Marijuana mountains on the table, Brett Michael, that kid you can’t label, yeah, n’ even though you think that he your brother word to the bible he’ll fucking fuck you over if he’s able, but when I’m’ looking at my family I guarantee I’m looking at the ones who won’t abandon me, apparently I know what I’m talking ‘bout, let’s just get some DJ Unk n’ let you haters walk it out, walk it
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