Fried Day
could not have been more plain
the blues are still required
the blues are still required again
past territorial piss-posts
past whispers in the closets
past screamin' from the rooftops
we live to survive our paradoxes
Men here of the secret
the pass in upholstered silence
they only exist in crisis
they only exist in silence
past territorial piss-posts
past whispers in the closets
past screamin' from the rooftops
we live to survive our paradoxes
we'll live to survive our paradoxes
A Million and 1 Buddah Spots
Still walkin down the streets with my hand on my black tec
My brain is high like Newark New Jersey do car thefts
I'm high, when I sag my 2 Black Guys
I would be brief but my Karl Kani's didn't dry
I smoke the blunt for all you underground chumps
My smoke bangs like it's freshly picked from the swamps
So nigga how you roll a blunt? Aiyyo, how you roll a blunt
Flip the script on some other shit like how you roll a cunt
Now, I smoke the Maui, wow-wee
Then I'll be back for me, I'm Sure, like Al B.
Go Uptown, smoke quarter-pounds at the Dungeon
Keith Murray meets me at the spot with the Bom-Ba
Go back to Jerz and smoke with Diezel Don
Huh, pick up a bag from my block, two-oh's the number
Who can get swift with the microphone mist
Plus I'm crisp like CD's on LP's in 3D
My funk respect it, cosmic injected
That cause me to Set It Off just like that club record
Hit it from the back, stay strapped like two packs of lubricants
It's gonna hurt -- no it's not a gat experience
The funk dweller, creeps through your cellar
And if your moms don't know your ass better tell her, like this y'all
There's a million and one blunt spots all over the world
That got good herb for all you boys and girls
Which one do you go to? *many shouts*
Which one do you go to? *many shouts*
I'm packin buddha by the pounds and pull my Phillies from knapsacks
Hey yo I didn't know your nickel bags come that fat
Yo check it, my lyrics strip the track butt-naked
Catch the Local to the A to the buddha to my vocals
and I, set the world on fire
Get a billion people higher, from just one blunt in my cypher
You swore to God you was mixed in bom-ba-zee
The rhymer Bombs Squads and MC's like Hank Shocklee
I spend a knot at all the buddha spots
From fifteen to fifty-fifth I ran all through the blocks
I set it off jock, I light a blunt for my nigga D
That's doin three pack, now where I get the hash at
You can't fuck with my funk cause my funk is kinda abstract
Past that, I'm rough like McGruff on dust
There's a million and one blunt spots in America
Yeah I'm tellin ya
Now just throw your blunts up in the motherfuckin air
Smoked out with niggaz from North Newark to Montclair
I rip the nouns from antonyms to synonyms
Cause I got soul like James Brown and rock M&M
One of the America's Most Blunted
Smoked out with MC Eiht and Compton Most Wanted
Ninety degrees, smoke with L.O.D. on the Island
Then back to Stat, to smoke more packs with the Shaolin
I showed the women how to roll a blunt stronger
But it didn't work, because they Lee nails got longer
But the weed is good for when you're mackin
and girls can front it off like they don't know shit that happened
I know what happened, I told her, BACK, NICK that motherfucker
So check!
My stamina, your ass couldn't snap with cameras
Leave you on your back like Godzill did Gamera
Props on blocks smokin the choc and what-nots
I might catch a nickel bag sale from bus stops *needle rips record*