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lyrics

I once had a sleepyhead in my home
'cause every time she came over, man, we'd get stoned.
She'd smoke us out, then pass the fuck out,
then wake up in the morning on the mother fucking couch.
Man, I miss that house, it was so legit.
It even had a smoke room that could fit six.

So we passed it on like a stoner should
that's why this song's all about smoking bud.
410 on my mind 420 in my blunt.
How many fucking times did we get lit up?
How many fucking times where we high as fuck,
upstairs in the room with the one door shut.

Then there was that one party, that one Halloween
where we hot-boxed so hard we could hardly breath.
How many fucking times did we get high,
on the mother fucking roof in the middle of the night?
Scrape that glass clean, if you run out of weed.
Grind that pack that lighting up the green;
smoke that pass that no camping;
ghost that hold that exhaling.
On 420 410 had a visit.
My physics friend Steph brought a free joint with her.
All thing considered, those potlucks, damn.
Left me so fucking high I could hardly stand.
And my weed connects, are still friends first
so the herb that I purchase keeps my friend's business afloat.
And I don't mind, I want them to thrive,
bag that smoke that means that they survive.

Then there was that one time I was high as fuck,
took two steps out the door and thought I was lost.
We smoke 'til were squinting,
we smoke 'til were grinning,
'til we don't understand what the fuck we've been saying.
Pi squared, we running the rap shit.
Mind Patrol records producing my rap shit.
The 410 house is hitting the hashish.
When you wrap weed and bag it in plastic well that's it.

credits

from Rap, Papers, Scissors: Smoke Session Cut, released August 14, 2016

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Lil Sneezy Oregon

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