… Nigga that shit sound sweet if everybody…
Budsmokers only. Budsmokers only, only. [*4]
Some niggas be passin’ that weed on to the thugsta niggas from Cleveland, gotta smoke ’til it’s all gone. Now, we wanna bong, ’cause a nigga be creepin’. Called all my thugstas, all them niggas drank. Called all my thugstas, all them niggas smoke weed. Gotta get me some, now.
My love is in hydro, gotta choke, let me loc’ with a little bit of smoke in my throat. Can’t let-a-me high go. Goin’ broke. Mo Thug hit the bud up and then get up upon me. Inhale, just lit up a blunt, and me roll fat one to get P. O. D.’ded. They label me killa, drugdealer, that realer nigga, Krayzie weeded.
Blaze up a blunt, gotta have that hydro, need me a hit of the tweed, made me drop to me knees. And I gotta give love to the green leaves, steadily spendin’ that cheese, feelin’ at ease. Thuggin’ on off in the cut, now when I’m checkin’ on how this shit’s on. In a raid, smoked out with my nigga, Tav. Smokin’ that tweed ’til we fall to our grave.
Make up the dummy to make up me money. Weed run me, and headed for broke, smoke on the bong, hit the bong wrong, nigga, me cough and choke. We, the real O. T.’s loc’ strong, Bone. I gotta C-note to toke on. So choke on, me holdin’ the smoke ’til it’s gone for long, and stay long.
Wanna get you fucked up. Gonna get you fucked up. (Hey, now, pass me some reefer.) [*2]
Mr. Inventor-of-the-green-leaves, gotta give P’s, ’cause I love this type shit. And it’s never gonna quit. Doctor told me better stop, but man, fuck that bitch! Me never goin’ stop me smoke, try to tell me, gauge in your throat. Gotsta run me on, fuckin’ with Bone, lovin’ this weed song.
Thuggin’ with me trues, swiggin’ on brews, steady be losin’ me balance. Take a puff to the dome, trippin’ off Flesh Bone, showin’ off me talent. Smoke until-a-me die, nigga gotta get high, if you wanna come right. Come with me, smoke on a blunt and get nice. Nigga, take a weed fiend’s advice. (nice!)
Feelin’ onto main, quarter-roll to the brain. Smokin’ like blunt after blunt my niggas is insane. Other niggas can’t hang. It’s a Bone thang, how a nigga like me smoke and maintain and remain #1. Here I come with the tweed in my chest. Nigga, got his wig to the curb, split up and serve, but fuck it! Gotta have them green herbs.
If you got bag of tweed, well blaze it with me fool. Now don’t be stingy, and please no pinnas. Make it swollen! ‘Cause if I had me some weed, you know I’d smoke it with you. Come-come get wit-a-me–me and my niggas blunts we rollin’.
Krayzie & Bone
Budsmokers only. Budsmokers only, only. [*8]
I take a hit of the reefer, keep smokin’. [*8]
Lyric Budsmokers Only – Bone Thugs-N-Harmony