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"This is for, all my smokers"
Whoo, one more, just keep the thing at the end of it
Alright, give me one more time on the count of three
1, 2, 3 "This is for, all my smokers"
(Yo, ya'll done made the album, you heard) Yes sir
"This is for, all my smokers"
"This is for, all my smokers"
Aiyo, Meth, what's up, nigga?
Doc, what's really good?
Got that bush and that Backwood, light up in any hood
Yup, I'm that hood, my brother, love me some Cali kush
Never thought that little bush in that baggie would have me hooked
I'm a pothead, everyone look, and point your fingers
At the bad guys, with the cottonmouths and glass eyes
Huh, fuck it, I'm that high, I'm blowing smoke clouds
Got my head in the clouds, fuck it, I'm that fly
Doc, what's up, nigga?
Yo, you know how I bust
Find me drunk, fucked up at the Cannabis Cup
For those who don't smoke, get the middle finger up
You smoke more than us, nigga, it's beginner's luck
My truck, ride with 5-0 eyes on it
It's like the blunt, when you ain't got five on it
I challenge any opponent, who wanna smoke?
We can puff til our voice get lower than Tone Loc, like
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Ain't nobody smoking more than me, up in here
(Aiyo, pump this shit, you get high off this here, because)
"This is for, all my smokers"
(I'm like yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Ain't nobody smoking more than Meth up in here)
Aiyo, bump this, bitch, you get high off this here, because)
"This is for, all my smokers"
Yo, I'm like oh my God, oh my God
I start growing sour dies' in my home garage
Now niggas on the block, say I'm on my job
Cuz now I rock more chains than Amistad
This my 'entourage', this not HBO
A bitch see me, she like, oh there he go
You can smoke with the bro, if you got ass and nice tits
But fuck you, with that, I'm 'high off of life' shit
They tried to make me go to rehab, no
Tell my P.O. that I ain't trying let the weed bag, go
You can catch me in the whip, pushing the seats back slow
My chick's a Rican, that mean she off the meat rack, though
Look ma, I'm eating, cuz when it's time to get that dough
I sink my teeth in, and turn around and spit that flow
They call me beasting, I monster the booth, so in the cut
I leave 'em bleeding, little swag', with some Miss Dashing season
I got flavors, I major, baby, send in the troops
That Johnny Blaze ya, leave dashes in your Timberland boots
Can't fuck with haters, just mad I got a pocket of loot
I'm chasing papers, ya'll try'nna be a rock in my shoe
I'm a father, I don't drink with kids, these youngers thinking they hard
I think harder than they think they is
I'm by as proper as my English is, and hope I did my thing
Before I die, for the things I did
Everybody light it up and smoke with your man
And cigarette smokers, change ya game plan
Cuz this is for all my, marijuana smokers
Backwoods, Swisher sweets, and Dutch rollers
Yeah, I pull over, start pulling out money
Cuz I by weed, like everyday 420
You know what else funny, I found was so gutter
I'm Cheech and Chong brother, just got different mothers 2009 ©
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