Burning them blunts boy, learning them children
I'm a different type of n***a, still ain't got no ceilings
So the homies roll up, sometimes I roll up
Rest in peace over beats you can call it donuts
Something other ain't I told you, let your whip slow up
Out the window acting stupid bet your b**h go nuts
Irri-indo puff of course I got lungs
Full of swisher sweet smoke, dump the guts, get a hit of this
And the bong got chambers like Wu-Tang
And we only smoke k**a, no Ghostface
And the weed hair longer than 2 Chainz
If you stepping in the circle learn to rotate
Getting so baked
Don't ask me about it n***a ask my whole state
And I'm still up in the Bay where we grow grapes
Tryna get it? It ain't all that hard to locate