Erick Arc Elliott - Bamma Weed lyrics

[Verse 1: Smoke DZA] n***a, I'm high off living, do what you do Live how you live, hold your opinion Probably cough into a coma if you hit that bowl God bless the man if he just that bold You don't do it like we do, nah, we don't believe you You n***as on that K2, we smoking sour diesel Kushed God, b**h, n***a chief like Katonah Flow bonkers, been fly since Tonka Contraband left on my dresser Bagged up, got extras, more bread to get up I hustle, I ain't letting up These wild n***as sleep, money still printing up So I be Zombie status With my Zombie n***as, getting all this cabbage Kushed God in the physical, Smokers Club original Members are minimal [Verse 2: Zombie Juice] Don't give me no bammer weed We don't smoke that sh** in the N.Y.C Lucy in the sky with diamonds, feeling vibrant Close your eyelids, the glorious dead arrive with DZA, we stay high, stoned, and stay fly Three grams for breakfast, hash wax for seconds My reflection, the force to be reckoned, but my direction These n***as awkwardly threaten, don't need a weapon, this menace Spark that leaf [?] with a ounce of top shelf chilling, top peeling All about that green, n***a, can you hear me? Same n***a on the block, serving grams, getting knots Wha-what? What you thought, you was smoking that good? I got a sack of dour and that wax is hitting proper Dusty Rhodes, elbows dropper, only smoke them if they proper The dondada, p**y popper, show stopper Z-O-M-B b**h [Hook x2: Zombie Juice and Smoke DZA] Don't give me no bammer weed We don't smoke that sh** in the N.Y.C We them top notch marijuan coppers O.G. a dour, make sure it's proper [Verse 3: Erick Arc Elliott] Not swagger, but effervescence, some say that s** is a weapon Keep shorty around like she pregnant Since I have no filter on the blunts, I have no filter on my mouth f** the living, we are dead, I smoke the marley like the dreads Rude boy, choose I, lick a shot, choose I I am on that new high, I'm just trying to boost mine Spanish mamis say my eyes rojo, don't call po-po I'm rolling solo, dank, buddha, ain't a thing to you Eyes closed, Bush, got me singing songs to you So what's wrong with you, not getting along with you We should live it a little, smoke trees, f** all my enemies Since all my n***as are smoking good, my b**h turned Hollywood My n***as are riding good, take a pull of the chronic cough Making you lose your composure so you could hardly talk DZA got 'em, spark the lighter up Not dividing us, n***a, you ain't as high as us [Hook x2: Zombie Juice and Smoke DZA]