My day starts out light, but it is very heavy as the night approach;
When I take flow from all dat smoke dat I smoke, no joke.
As I commence to take flight, it's gotta be first class 'cause this ass
Could give a fuck about coach... bitch.
(How high do you fly when you fly back?)
From da bottom to top; top to bottom and back.
Now as I lay me in da cup, gettin' fucked up,
Puffin' on blunts, and comin' up with some mo' of dat funky stuff.
Rough and tough is not enough to keep my focus;
No, it's dat hocus pocus, abracadabra, smokeyas;
Fills up da room as I breathe again.
One smoke from da ghetto; it's dem braids, and
When flossing in my benz, with my friends, it begins.
Smell the aroma puttin' you in a coma;
It's dat super sanky dank that'll make ya faint, go blank.
Hey, when I hits da door, all my niggas say...
[Chorus]
Adi, adi, adi, adi, ah... (It's probably all dat chronic that I smoke.)
Oh, how we love it when ya fire it up.
Adi, adi, adi, adi, ah... layin' in da cut, gettin' real fucked up.
Layin' in da cut, gettin' real fucked up.
It's a new day, new day; truly, ain't nathin' changed.
Fall up out my bed to the same ol' thangs.
Your average, everyday, black, surrounded. Barbecue, a little weed.
It's some niggas with some bass pounding.
One o'clock is da time to raise.
Take a shower, brush my teeth, and correct my braids.
Now listen up to what I say, because this typa shit... it happens everyday, and
(I gotta place where I soak some, so...) In da summer it's a coolin',
In da winter it's a smoke, ho.
Twenty feet away from da house, in da back,
Surrounded by a gate draped in all black its.
(It's where me and my homies go smokin' on that thang till it ain't no mo'.)
How we smoke? (We smoke till I blast some mo'.)
Doin' my thang, kickin' back, relax, and then...
[Chrous x 2]
Artist: Lowell Fulson
Artist: T. Rex