Intro:
(*guy toking up*)
Fuckin buddha comin at'cha live
Direct with the biggest, fattest joint
Comin in with indo flavours
Fuckin buddha comin at'cha like this
'95
Verse 1: b-real
It's friday mornin, where the weed at?
Let me dip into my pocket for my fat weed sack
Cos i wanna get high like a plane
In the sky with the indo cloud in my brain
Where the fuck are my zig-zags and my lighters?
So i can roll it and set it on fire
Damn, i wish i had scissors cos the shit is so sticky
That it's gettin on my fuckin fingers
But it's smokeable, double tokeable
I got the one-hit that, where the bombay shit that's tokeable
I wanna do a joint venture
Let me make sure there ain't no lump in the goddamn centre
To get pregnated lookin joint, fuck it
I can smoke it and i still get faded
Chorus:
Roll it up, light it up, smoke it up
Inhale exhale
*repeat x3*
(i'm the freaker, the one freaks the funk
*repeat*
Verse 2: (sen dogg), b-real
(east coast hittin that blunt), west coast hittin that honeydip
Might he want a joint then i want another hit
Roll it up, (light it up), smoke it up
I wanna stimulate my mind (so i toke it up)
Can i get a hit? (can i get a hooh!?)
Gimme that fat bag of weed and the brew
So i can get faded, elevated
Smoke the joint down to a roach then i ate it
I stand true to the guess guy ????
(as i keep runnin from the chop-per)
Gimme dat weed fool and ya zig-zags
(puto won't be holdin out on the big bag)
Chorus
(i'm the freaker, the one who freaks the funk)
*repeat to fade*
from Lirik Berry
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