Budd Dwyer - $moked out, Loced Out (Part II) lyrics

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Budd Dwyer - $moked out, Loced Out (Part II) lyrics

[Verse 1: Pontious Pilate] Uzi be rolling the blunt up with the mother f**ing stanky sess Put that pistol to my chest I'm gone, up off that ganja Like f** your drama Indo blunts all on my fingers I got that nina North Korea, if I see you Chief the reefer, jeepers creepers, I'm the reaper Up off that sack I got that pack That indo blow, the china snow Ain't got no hope, pa** me a rope And slit my throat b**h, I'm the devil Welcome to Haiti Maybe I'm crazy, always blazing Always sipping, codeine addicted Come meet the Millers, ain't got no filter, the shape shifter It's... [Hook] [Verse 2: Yung Plague] f**ing Oddy got a lil f**ing Versace Rolling the dope, and I'm blowing the smoke Yeah, it got me feeling kind of disembodied This b**h is acting sloppy No, this sh** don't f**ing shock me anymore Poured the ho and four for the low Told her I wanted to get blown so she s**ed my dick But I was talking bout the blunt I had already lit Stupid a** b**h Getting blowing, while I'm getting blown I can't complain Eyes redder than the cherry in my f**ing name Smoked out Loced out Choked out in the grow house till my brain is stained Burning Buddha flesh What's left of the sess gets left for the next sesh Smokin to my d**h No breath in my chest Just leftover smoke seeping out of my vest f** the government Come and catch me the blunt is lit f** jail, b**h Shoot me now, b**h I want to be surrounded by clouds and the fiery flames to lighten the pounds, b**h [Verse 3: Eddy Baker] I stay smoking heavy green I stay with that sack on me Dirty money Keep a lot on me b**h, I didn't win no lottery But n***a know I keep a lot of tree Professional with the pottery Got bad hipster hoes rolling up for me Swear they can't get enough of me Bunch of left foots while we smoke a G That's how the pimps do still got hoes on D Hitting my bong, I pull on her thong Stay with the gra** just like a front yard Tipping the lean, I mix it with bars Yellow Xanax, that sh** look like Bart Kush in my wood It smell like some fart Shoutout my hood It's close to my heart f**ing with me I'll rip out your heart Creep in the dark G from the start Smoking in public just watch for the cops They know I got grams all up in my sock They all on my co*k Headed to the top Won't ever stop, b**h