Roll It Up Again

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 endo 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 cus the shit is so sticky that it's gettin' on my fuckin' fingers But it's smokeable, double tokeable I got the one-hitta quitta, Bombay shit that's tokeable I wanna do a joint venture Let me make sure there ain't no lump in the goddamn center The impregnated 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 freaka, the one freaks the funk *repeat* Verse 2: (Sen Dogg), B-Real (East Coast hittin' that blunt), West Coast hittin' that honey-dip Marijuana 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 Yesca Mota (As I keep runnin from the chunta) 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*