High Times - La Coka Nostra, Ill Bill, Slaine

Yo, I’m like butter in the bottle, easy spraying at those

Dressed in black like a funeral, praying to ghosts

I’m like a thousand Newport’s out the mouth of the trife

A Farragut too short, Billy fuck your mouth with a rifle

Yeah fuck your face with a screwdriver, show me a goon liver

A miracle I ain’t in jail doing a two-fiver

I speak electricity, my words are loose diamonds

String 'em together like Gucci links and used medallions

I take you on a journey

Sometimes I feel like fuck the world, y’all don’t deserve me, fuck you and your

attorney

I drive a hard bargain, into the fire like Don Dokken

Fuck outta here, matter of fact, make it a L.A.R.S rocket

The chopper read a rat, chief popper, Desert Eagle clap

My words will cause the street underneath your feet to crack

Resurrect John Lennon, bring the Beatles back

Resurrect Bob Marley, bring that reefer back

Load the auto-dab with Waxey Gordon, I get so high

I feel like I’m passing Jordan every time I pack a bowl and

Grow my own weed on lands stolen

Cali’s saw with the hashy oil got my lung mad swollen

Smoke out of an apple with The Grateful Dead

Just to s&le cause I wanna tap it through make some bread

(Yeah?) I get my weed from the street instead

Cause I don’t believe with a scrip, you deceive the feds

What the fuck do I know, I’m a marijuano

Used to doing mano-mano in the hood for my dough

Now I’m analytical in the line

La Coka Nostra — Dos like through?

like the mob

I’m a scholar and a gentleman, Cheech &Chong veteran

Complicated hood shit, like Big Sleep’s lettering

Waste italic cause I chase the dragon

Just imagine that the dabbin' and the whisky lace the galley?

I look around and see a bunch of younger me’s with chips

On their shoulders, smokin' weed, no seeds or sticks

Graduated to the yayo for the freezing drips

Stashing burners in their fucking dungarees and whips

Still awake at 7AM and you need your fix

You was booked on a flight but it leaves at six

You were cooked for the night with an easy bitch

That’s the lifestyle of the young and greasy rich

And sleazy it’s all easy til the IRS sees me

I ain’t filed in years and now they starting to seize me

All the debt is in fees enough to make you get queasy

Can’t leave rap alone, I ain’t Wheezy

Resurrect old Slaine, bring the evil back

Resurrect John Lennon, bring The Beatles back

Resurrect Cochran, I need a beat to rap

Trying find my way like it’s hay in a needle stack