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People in Oakland, Oakland |
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See I'm riding higher and higher |
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Kinda broke so ya know all I got's five, I got five |
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[Verse 1: Yukmouth] |
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Player, give me some brew and I might just chill |
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But I'm the type that like to light another joint like Cypress Hill |
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I'm-a steal doobies, spit loogies when I puff on it |
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I got some bucks on it but it ain't enough on it |
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Go get the S-t. I-d-e-s |
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Nevertheless I'm hella fresh, rolling joints like a cigarette |
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So pass it across the table like ping pong, I'm gone |
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Beating my chest like King Kong |
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It's on wrap my lips around a 40 |
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And when it comes to getting another stogie fools all kick in like Shinobi |
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No, he ain't my homie to begin with |
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It's too many heads to be proper to let my friend hit it |
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Unless you pull out the fat, crispy |
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5 dollar bill on the real before it's history |
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Cause fools be having them vacuum lungs |
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An if you let em hit it for free you hella dum-da-dum-dumb |
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I come to school with the Taylor on my earlobe |
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Avoiding all the thick teasers, skeezers, and weirdos |
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That be blowing off the land like where the bomb at |
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Give me two bucks, you take a puff and pass my bong back |
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Suck up the dank like a Slurpee |
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The serious bomb will make a niggy go delirious like Eddie Murphy |
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I got more Growing Pains than Maggie |
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Cause homies nag me to take the dank out of the baggie |
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[Hook:] |
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I got five on it |
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Grab your 40, let's get keyed |
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I got five on it |
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Messing with that Indo weed |
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I got five on it |
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It's got me stuck and not go back |
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I got five on it |
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Partner lets go half on a sack |
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[Verse 2: Numskull] |
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I take sacks to the face whenever I can |
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Don't need no crutch, I'm so keyed up 'till the joint be burning my hand |
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Next time I roll it in a hampa |
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To burn slow, so the ashes won't be burning up my hand, bro |
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Hoochies can hit but they know they got to pitch in |
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Then I roll a joint that's longer than your extension (hahaha) |
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Cause I'll be damned if you get high off me for free |
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Hell no, you better bring your own spliff, chief |
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What's up, don't babysit that better pass the joint |
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Stop hitting cause you know you got asthma |
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Crack a 40 open homie |
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And guzzle it, cause I know the weed in my system is getting lonely |
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I gotta take a whiz test to my P-O |
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I know I failed cause I done smoked major weed bro |
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And every time we with Chris that fool rolling up a fatty |
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But the Tanqueray straight had me |
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[Hook] |
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[Verse 3: Numskull] |
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Hey, make this right man, stop at the light man |
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My yester-night thing got me hung off the night train |
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You fade, I face, so let's head to the east |
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Hit the stroll to 9-0 so we can roll big hashish |
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I wish I could fade the eighth, but I'm low budget |
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Still rolling a two door Cutlass same old bucket |
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Foggy windows, soggy Indoe |
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I'm in the 'land getting smoked wit my kinfolk |
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[Verse 4: Yukmouth] |
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Been smoked, Yuk'll spray ya, lay ya down up in the O-A-K the Town |
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Homies don't play around we down to blaze a pound |
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Then ease up, speed up through the E-S-O |
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Drink the V-S-O-P with a lemon squeeze up |
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And everybody's rolled up, I'm da roller |
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That's quick to fold a blunt out of a buncha sticky doja |
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Hold up, suck up my weed is all you do |
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Kick in feed, cause where I be we need half like um-foo-foo |
