You know the Hippies keepin' me hot
I dont even gotta talk about itDis that talk back
Dis that let it out
Dis that sleepin on the floor cause he got the couch
Dis that let em have it
Dis that fuck em all (fuck em)
Dis that run it up
Bitch I'm comin' up
Into your mind
It's your prize
And go guide your soul
Twistin' the ganj
Windows high
Until I get old
Imma talk back
Overdosin' on that crystal ball
Check the method I don't do no stretchin', I blow through it all
Fuck a lot, and sleep a lot how I cope with it all
Footprints all over my bed, I dream I can walk it off
This mo' like a hit and run, grand slam bitch my city jumpin' over fences I'm a fucking go the distance, I'm so fuck that shit yo talkin I dick all over yo sentence, pig, when you finna blow yo lid just remember
Ok, ok, ok, I'm 19 with a passport and freedom
Rappin' like suspicious packages gon blow me up (boom)
My guess is they don't know a lil flex when they see one (they see one)
I'm a 94 these niggas 80's some (weak weak)
I've been poppin' pills since I was 12, locked up in my mind
Straight up I blame yall for real, hope I got my doctor pockets filled
No prescription bars to place on top yo tongue and swallow ill
I play my own Dr. Phil, I might have to stop yo deal
Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.