I was gonna clean my room until I got high. I was gonna get up and find the broom but then I got high. My room is still messed up and I know why. 'Cause I got high.
A few words of inspiration. This song is dedicated to hustlers standing on the curb. Smokin' herb, movin' weight from the inner city to the suburbs. Paranoid of jail, pocket full of ya'll, just waitin' on another sale.
Hey, sugar, how you doin'?. Your pretty face don't match that nasty attitude. What do you mean, 'Where's my girl?'. Probably with your man, can we fuck?.
Hey sugar, how you doing, huh. Your pretty face don't match that nasty attitude. What you mean where my girl. Probably with your man. Can we fuck?. . She won't let me fuck.
When you born in this world. You get these people that you coincidently grow up with. And you get this illusion of friendship. You know what I'm saying man.
Ladies and gentlemen, homosexuals, lesbians and transvestites. I am your platter spinnin' poppa, your woofer whopper. Your G-mosav from the mohav. Sellin' weed out the alley of the anti-dope valley.
I was gonna clean my room until I got high. I was gonna get up and find the broom but then I got high. My room is still messed up and I know why. 'Cause I got high.
Man, my daddy told me. Boy, when I was your age. I had to walk 13 miles to school. I said, "Oh, is that why you didn't graduate?". . Talkin' noise with all of my homeboys.