Still walkin down the streets with my hand on my black tec
My brain is high like Newark New Jersey do car thefts
I'm high when I sag my 2 Black Guys
I would be brief but my Karl Kani's didn't dry
I smoke the blunt for all you underground chumps
My smoke bangs like it's freshly picked from the swamps
So nigga how you roll a blunt? Aiyyo how you roll a blunt
Flip the script on some other shit like how you roll a cunt
Now, I smoke the Maui, wow-wee
Then I'll be back for me, I'm Sure, like Al B.
Go Uptown, smoke quarter-pounds at the Dungeon
Keith Murray meets me at the spot with the Bom-Ba
Go back to Jerz and smoke with Diezel Don
Huh, pick up a bag from my block, two-oh's the number
Who can get swift with the microphone mist
Plus I'm crisp like CD's on LP's in 3D
My funk respect it, cosmic injected
That cause me to Set It Off just like that club record
Hit it from the back, stay strapped like two packs of lubricants
It's gonna hurt -- no it's not a gat experience
The funk dweller, creeps through your cellar
And if your moms don't know your ass better tell her, like this y'all
There's a million and one blunt spots all over the world
That got good herb for all you boys and girls
Which one do you go to? *many shouts*
Which one do you go to? *many shouts*
I'm packin buddha by the pounds and pull my Phillies from knapsacks
Hey yo I didn't know your nickel bags come that fat
Yo check it, my lyrics strip the track butt-naked
Catch the Local to the A to the buddha to my vocals
and I, set the world on fire
Get a billion people higher, from just one blunt in my cypher
You swore to God you was mixed in bom-ba-zee
The rhymer Bombs Squads and MC's like Han
