Lyrics:
on my fifth blunt, nigga, I don't know this zip code
Aye, nigga, I don't know this zip code
Aye, nigga, I don't know this zip code
gon' check it, put you in Nirvana
Tell em gimme my blunt, we ballin' Juanna
Man
Eat up any bitch like piranhas
And terminate you, John Connor
Tell em,
bitch, you lazy
I just hit the Dutchie blunt, I'm feelin' jaded
Every month a new wedding month, cause I'm cakin
And I don't even got a bitch, what you
the blunt, I turn the grabba leaf to guapo
Someone better tell her I'm a artist not a rapper
If I ever had your style, I'd go get my bread up
Yeah these snare
Roll up, Nigga! Who's matchin'?
Gut bucket xXL
You know we gotta roll 2 at least!
Maybe 3 or 4
BLUNTS!
Well, well, well
Sounds like it's time for
Three blunts when you see me in traffic
Nigga barkin' but he do not want static
John Wick with the pistol I'm blasting
Drop two tabs when I wake up in
fumei um na blunt rasgando pro Campo Grande
Metendo fuga na john boyd
Desentoca a nave da garagem vamos para o rasante, se hoje eu tenho condição eu vou
lit
At your front door
15 min's bitch
Got that pack
I'm papa john's
Snitch
Cops chasing through the hood
While they watching
Out the window
Throwing
to your soul's question
Do you remember what it is that you asked?
Hand in that magic hat
I dont pull out rabbits I roll up
Blunt facts
Cutting off
(Cut that shit up baso)
(I got Mikey, we fuck shit up)
It's forever Johnworld, and you know that we steppin' bout it
Dissin' on John, hit your block,
since ya love your MAGA hat
This shit feels bassy
John Wayne Gacy
Tell all the boys there's a party in the basement
Let me get a taste of the flesh
me John Stockton... huh yea
Big blunts of the truffles
High as hell I need me some ruffles... huh yea
Big 40 for the scuffles
I know y'all nigga don't
Yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah
Este e' el John C, Mr. Zombie
Con Alan Gomez
Todo okey, la noche se presta para salir
Ando con lo' dueño' así que paso free
John
From inna school mi love when
Mi Mr henry seh:
"Adidja come do di long division"
Gal mi love u but mi cyan help it
One gal cyan do, mi need more
Well, big John Henry Rucker
He was a greasy motor trucker
And he drove them big ol' diesels to L.A.
Drivin' outta Mobile
His darlin' wife, Camille
blunts in the car with strippers
Guns in compartments hidden,
I was real young, little youth, a novice nigga
Blessings, bowed down, respected,
Chowed down
Henry j’en conviens mais laisse-moi te raconter:
J’avais douze ans lorsque j’ai vu
Le maître de la plantation
Frapper, battre un esclave
À partir de
We're barefootin', we're barefootin'
We're barefootin', we're barefootin'
Lil John Henry he said to Sue
If I was barefootin' would you barefoot too
Sue
shoes, gonna dance with it
Lil John Henry he said to Sue,
If I was barefootin' would you barefoot too
Sue told John, "I'm thirty two,
I've been
knees working with John Henry
But he's so hard to please
He's so hard to please
Down around Big Bend with the West Virginians
Hammer in the morning
new clip in my stick, yeah
Wrist be a kilo, got it on the down low
Fuck you up easy it's a free throw, yeah
Hundred gram blunt, yeah 'course
I gotta
a case, nigga free Theeze
If I gotta think twice, I won't think at all
Bitch we won, all smoke, ain't no peace at all
Treat the ops like a blunt, I'll
'Rarri (skrrt)
Livin' like John Gotti (come on)
Choppin' bricks like karate
Drink a bunch of codeine (drank)
Servin' to the dope fiends (and smoke)
Can't even stunt, I was sprung from the jump
Never got head while flaming up the blunt
You were my first, I'm just saying
More folks should try it,
.jpg/236px-James_Blunt_Tom_Brasil_(25624592027).jpg "James Blunt")
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