Look at that, it's a bomb. Ridiculous, I'm twisted so much, my name should be liverish. Ticklish describes the senses, mind's on blank, so *** the reminiscence about the past. Tip that *** to the front, throw your finale ascending from zig-zags to move the pipes to the blunt. Chumps ain't allowed, getting a ride, some chump proper bitches gotta wait outside. A white kit and printed from the endo, AC is blowing on my way to the studio. You ain't got to be no thug to love the uplifting feeling that's connected to the vood. That you can purchase in these wild city streets, but if you got something on it, join the smokeout in my backseat. They having a smokeout in my backseat. Yo nigga pass the bud like we used to do. They having a smokeout in my backseat. I don't mind if I take a toque or two. They having a smokeout in my backseat. Yo nigga pass the bud like we used to do. They having a smokeout in my backseat. Pass it on, pass it on, yeah. Pass it to me, see. Suck one, suck two. Now I'm feeling high as you. So roll up the window tight. Because I might roll up a whole hat. I want the contact from the doja. Oh I haven't told ya, no need for the zigzag. Pass me the blood splittin'. Hit it now I'm bitten. You as high as ***. Your eyes are closing up. Now tell me what's up. Is it the bomb? As the atmosphere swells up with smoke. And remember to hit some pads. And I'm watching your ass. So you won't take more than you're supposed to. Headed to Cerritos to get the blood that's crunchy like Doritos. Speaking of Doritos. I'm just a stop at 1-9 Snow Inn. And here we go down Atlantic. Don't panic. I know the doja got you tweaking in my backseat. So meet me halfway across the sea. And pass it back to me. And light up another one. B-L-O-U-N-T. They having a smokeout in my backseat. Yo nigga pass the butt like we used to do. They having a smokeout in my backseat. I don't mind if I take a toke or two. They having a smokeout in my backseat. Yo nigga pass the butt like we used to do. They having a smokeout in my backseat. Pass it on. Pass it on. Okay. Who got the zigzag? A.K.A. Rollin' papers. Twistin' on these. Twistin' up gang. On another K-Pop. Bustin' in. That's some skin whichever comes first. Or better yet just get smoked out until my lungs burst. Windows blowed up. A.C. low. Chronic blowin'. Summertime in the L.B.C. The drug a-blowin'. I got that blood. Blood. I give the blood. Blood. That's that stuff. Blood. You got that cool. Cool. That's that stuff. That's the darndest one has ever seen. And nigga sucks. For all you broke ass endorphins. In them fifty packs. For them nasty ass blunts. I do smoke grass. But I don't smoke no one's freestyle. So pass me the white pack. The orange or even blue. Matter of fact. Them licorice papers over there will do. And as we slide fully to the east side a cloud to smoke through. The inside of my environment. They habit of smoking out in my backseat. Yo nigga passed up like we use to do. They habit of smoke out in my backseat. I don't mind if I take a double dip. They habit of smoke out in my backseat. Yo nigga passed up like we use to do. They habit of smoking out in my backseat. Pass it on. Pass it on. Yo nigga passed up like we use to do. They habit of smoking out in my backseat. Pass it on. Pass it on. Yo nigga passed up like we use to do. I don't mind if I take a dope or two. Yo nigga passed up like we use to do. Pass it on. Pass it on. Pass it on. Yo nigga passed up like we use to do. Pass it on. Pass it on. Yo nigga passed up like we use to do. You and me.