lirik lagu bamma weed – smoke dza
n-gg-, i’m high off living, do what you do
live how you live, hold your opinion
probably cough into a coma if you hit that bowl
god bless the man if he just that bold
you don’t do it like we do, nah, we don’t believe you
you n-gg-s on that k2, we smoking sour diesel
kushed god, b-tch, n-gg- chief like katonah
flow bonkers, been fly since tonka
contraband left on my dresser
bagged up, got extras, more bread to get up
i hustle, i ain’t letting up
these wild n-gg-s sleep, money still printing up
so i be zombie status
with my zombie n-gg-s, getting all this cabbage
kushed god in the physical, smokers club original
members are minimal
don’t give me no bammer weed
we don’t smoke that sh-t in the n.y.c
lucy in the sky with diamonds, feeling vibrant
close your eyelids, the glorious dead arrive with
dza, we stay high, stoned, and stay fly
three grams for breakfast, hash wax for seconds
my reflection, the force to be reckoned, but my direction
these n-gg-s awkwardly threaten, don’t need a weapon, this menace
spark that leaf [?] with a ounce of top shelf chilling, top peeling
all about that green, n-gg-, can you hear me?
same n-gg- on the block, serving grams, getting knots
wha-what? what you thought, you was smoking that good?
i got a sack of dour and that wax is h-tting proper
dusty rhodes, elbows dropper, only smoke them if they proper
the dondada, p-ssy popper, show stopper
z-o-m-b b-tch
don’t give me no bammer weed
we don’t smoke that sh-t in the n.y.c
we them top notch marijuan coppers
o.g. a dour, make sure it’s proper
not swagger, but effervescence, some say that s-x is a weapon
keep shorty around like she pregnant
since i have no filter on the blunts, i have no filter on my mouth
f-ck the living, we are dead, i smoke the marley like the dreads
rude boy, choose i, lick a shot, choose i
i am on that new high, i’m just trying to boost mine
spanish mamis say my eyes rojo, don’t call po-po
i’m rolling solo, dank, buddha, ain’t a thing to you
eyes closed, bush, got me singing songs to you
so what’s wrong with you, not getting along with you
we should live it a little, smoke trees, f-ck all my enemies
since all my n-gg-s are smoking good, my b-tch turned hollywood
my n-gg-s are riding good, take a pull of the chronic cough
making you lose your composure so you could hardly talk
dza got ’em, spark the lighter up
not dividing us, n-gg-, you ain’t as high as us
don’t give me no bammer weed
we don’t smoke that sh-t in the n.y.c
we them top notch marijuan coppers
o.g. a dour, make sure it’s proper
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