You ask me why I'm smoking?
I'm just gonna show them that the ice
is good and we'll never get free of it.
The rest of the forest says the ice is good!
Come on, come on.
I tell you, I'm ready to go burn down, Charlie.
Put an end to the fire,
I say,
burn them all,
Charlie.
Man, I'll hug up until you die, somebody.
Man,
each one of you is a man,
and I'll blame you,
Polly.
Rub up and hug up on the religion, Charlie.
Kill all of them and push them out,
burn them,
Charlie.
You can't touch me, listen to me.
You can't touch me, Polly.
Polly, not too much, Polly.
Oh, the iron!
My friend, I'm made for letting me tell you.
Put a fire in a poor parlour.
The iron!
My friend,
I'm made for letting me let my charlies spill.
I'm gonna pick up lead.
The iron!
My friend,
I'm made for letting me let my friends.
But the man ask me,
he say,
you can't get me panic.
So I tell them this, I know the bite panic.
Babylon,
they say, they can't stand it.
Now I smoke the coconut,
I like to smoke the tonic.
Long time the United Nations want panic.
The Clinton and his friends,
they drive the planet.
I listen to the CIA, they can't stand it.
Want to smoke the herb, Babylon, I panic.
But around the corner, they want to panic.
And the boroughs say,
yeah,
they're the best of it.
They'll let me tell you,
go and smoke the ice,
ice,
ice.
But the iron!
My friend, I'm made for letting me tell you.
Put a fire in a poor parlour.
The iron!
My friend,
I'm made for letting me let my friends spill.
I'm gonna pick up lead.
The iron!
My friend,
I'm made for letting me let my friends spill.
I'm gonna put a fire in a poor parlour.
The iron!
My friend,
I'm made for letting me let my friends spill.
But my little messiah know him judgement.
I still don't make a life, my split.
But in reality, I just can't trick.
They caught me listening.
They really getting on to me now.
They really getting on to me now.
Now I'm gonna sell it off for token.
When Peter Purchase tell them, say,
light up your business,
boy,
put the thing on bookings and police.
Well,
since that's been,
the smoke the herb,
Babylon,
I own my thot.
And Jay Butler say,
light up the chalice and go bun down home.
I pick up rock and pop all of home.
We will do it to build all of weep and mourn.
Hey, yo, you know what sir?
I'll do you a straight sorone.
I'll fill you with my chalice.
I'll do you a straight sorone.
I'll fill you up with the ice like a,
Ah!
But the iron!
The iron!
The iron!
The iron!
The iron!