| Charlie Brown, please, don’t come around
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| Because your weed is doodoo brown
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| and it smells like the ground
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| You’re still my homie (but no more bammer)
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| But with that weed you don’t know me When I inhale this, the staleness creeps up on me
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| I love weed, especially when it gets me gaspin'
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| Coughin’up a lung from that passion
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| Graspin’onto life with every hit that I take
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| When I’m high, is the only time I feel awake
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| Roll it up, bags on reserve is what I deserve
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| No joke I gots to smoke cause it calms my nerves
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| And if Charlie was around I guarantee a tragedy
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| From his dirt, brown weed means head starts to hurt
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| Call me a high on, red eyed zombie
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| smelling like oak with a twist of pine tree
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| And fuck Smokey, my names Big Inhale
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| And I’m known to take it down to the tail,
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| You know what I mean?
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| Resi-res build up on my fingernail
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| Clam baked inside the soundproof Lotus Pod cell
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| Lettin’out, when I’m blessed to give
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| So, pass it back and let me get another hit
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| Big Smoker
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| Charlie, Charlie
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| Your weed is so sorry (mmm mmm mmmm)
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| You must have grown it in a dusty safari
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| I just can’t smoke that no mo'
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| Even though I’m broke and I’m po'
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| I smell that shit in your bag,
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| I choke and run for the do'
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| Don’t hate you, Charlie
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| And homie, you still my boy
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| Just keep that junk on your spot
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| (Don't bring it 'round here)
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| And homie, you still my boy
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| Cause that I can’t never handle
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| I need to be high
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| So stay the fuck off my block
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| and don’t come back on my side
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| Charlie, Charlie (Charlie Brown)
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| You just ain’t fresh anymore
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| Because I like to be lifted
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| Your shit grounds me to the floor
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| Don’t make me deck you, Charlie (Bitch)
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| Don’t come 'round with that
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| Don’t nobody want to hit that
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| Ya’ll bustas need to quit that
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| Charlie, Charlie |