catch me where the red ferns grow,
smokin’ bud that burns slow.
so turn the d-mn dial
if your speakers turned low.
‘cuz everything i’m doin is loud,
i’m just chillin on a motha f-ckin c-mulus cloud,
i stay high.
up in the galaxy like pluto nash,
stupid -ss thinkin any one in your crew’s gon’ last.
but you knew those facts
i’m the dog that whipped pugos -ss.
fat bud call it sumo gr-ss.
so you better give me kutos fast,
won’t stop till i got that borat n bruno cash.
i’m a box office success,
puffin’ the best
got that godzilla, green,
same color as shrek.
so lets throw it in a dutchy or philly or e z wider,
bong, bowl, bubbler, hookah, or vaporizer.
maybe throw yourself a batch of brownies in,
as long as we be gettin’ high count me in, ay!
i’m just livin’ on a cloud,
chillen in the sunshine.
i got a dub n a dutch,
i think its blunt time.
eyes bloodshot, contacts dry,
wear my sungl-sses even when i’m inside.
like the thc in my system
my weed is medicin
i need it for livin.
i twist up my words
while i speed up the rhythm
because i be high as f-ck
‘n i don’t need your permission.
burnin’ on a cloud
smokin on a joint that would make bob marley proud.
jam with the buffalo soldiers
chillen let me stir it up.
trench town rockin on a beat then i burn it up.
you better learn your stuff be ware,
i’m just a kid who didn’t pay attention and dare.
i’ve been high all day since eighth grade
stay blazed off that grade a haze and ak,
rollin up an eighth of gr-ss
any time i blaze a track
‘cuz i stay burnin like a f-ckin pyromaniac.
keep atleast an ounce where i’m stayin at;
dutch in the whip,
puffin some piff,
who f-ckin with chris?
anywhere i go
you know i got some pot,
green with orange hair like roger klots.
got that carrot top drop,
no stems no seeds,
takin bong rips to see if u can od.
but you can’t,
all you get is cough ‘n real hungry,
tearin’ the f-ck outta the fridge with the munchies.
p-ss out in boxers,
infront of the tv then,
wake up at like three pm.
then its wake n bake time,
so roll yourself a joint,
‘cuz if ur not high,
then whats the f-ckin’ point?
my heads in the clouds,
i’ll never be sober,
i’ll be a pot head till its over,