Weed Lyrics - Singles - The High & Mighty

Weed, weed, what a relief 

Where will my eighth a day habit cease? 

This an agricultural service announcement 

You can treat it and you can douse it 

Let us begin now with the plant 

The way that it gets to your blunt in hand 

See the herb doesn't grow fast enough for man 

So for his lye, he makes a master plan 

He has bowls to make the weed grow quicker 

Through the hydroponic, the weed gets sicker 

Twenty-one different soils are dumped 

Into the pot in one big lump 

So just before it dies, it dries 

In my back closet, with no moss and flies 

Off with the bud, we cut it, weigh it, and bag it 

And there it is for your local street addict 

Green and buddy, an ounce condensely packed 

Smoke it up and catch a heart attack 

Now come on now man let's be for real 

You are what you smoke is the way I feel but 

The weed and blunt administration'll 

Have you thinkin' lye is the perfect combination 

See heads be livin' under fear and stress 

Wonderin' where they get the best 

Now beer and bless can become a part of you 

In your cells and dome, this is true 

So when the plant is grown, believe it 

Sell some to your man or smoke for free kid 

Roll it up, and begin seasonin' 

Then you sit down, and begin seein' shit 

In your body, Blackwoods, a Phillie, a Dutcher 

All the need and fiend for another 

See any smoke's addictive by any man 

Even the brownish rag it's all the same 

The Alchemist'll have my ass, strung out 

On the Indo and Northern Lights no doubt 

Think you got your weed habit on lock? 

Tell yourself you gonna try and stop 

Smokin' weed and you'll see you need the tree 

It's the number one drug on the street 

Not coke, 'cause that's a category of dope 

But the green leaf, that I smoke with wreath 

Now herb brings life and real bad breath 

Smoke all your shit and what you got left? 

Absolutely high, the sedative 

Watchin' the movie Friday, with a spliff 

By Chris Tucker, that high motherfucker 

For anybody, Northern or Southerner 

See how many blunts we gotta pump up fatter? 

How many seeds gotta fall in the batter? 

How many chickens wanna smoke what you smoke 

And how many heads ask for just one toke? 

Now they'll consume, the local dread could care less 

He'll sell you donkey shit and say it's fresh 

For ninety-nine, you suckers 

High and Mighty, Mr. Eon, Mighty Mi 

Get your own shit, get your own shit man 

This my shit, I smoke my shit 

You smoke your shit 

Then we'll be fine