| I see her walking in the belt of moonlight
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| Luniz and Potluck
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| The Weed Song
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| I’m from the county with the best weed, you can’t impress me
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| I saw the sticky green way before I was a teen
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| So I’m fucked up, livin' Humboldt County life
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| Still pray to Mary Jane, cause she takes away the pain at night
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| I’m in a daze, gettin' blazed everyday now
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| Royal blunts and sprinkled Hash, is what we pass around
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| No seeds, no stems, no mold man
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| Only hold frosty nugs, call me the Snowman
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| Grab the bong with both hands, and suck the smoke
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| Pull the carb and breathe it until' its fillin' up your throat
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| Let it enter your chest, this chronic’s what we cherish
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| Us kids in Humboldt County chiefin' more than
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| Who you messin' with?
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| I’m a pothead that will never quit
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| We rollin' fat blunts, you hit that Mexi shit
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| We puff incredible, Mary J’s my centerfold
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| Back to back smokin' and chokin', until my head explodes
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| I see her walking in the belt of moonlight
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| Luniz and Potluck
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| The Weed Song
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| I’m a cultivator, a smoker, not a hater
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| Show you how to roll a blunt, explain it to you later
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| Cause Mary Jane’s a motherfucker, catch you in a
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| I pull her in a bong, and pimp her for a little paper
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| Live another day, another hit up off a J
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| When I say «Either get high or get up about the way»
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| I don’t play about the hay, smokin' more than he say
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| More hits, or bong rips than mouse clicks on eBay
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| Believe it, it’s authentic, smoke a lot of spinach
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| Been puffin' with the big cheese, it’s more than just an image
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| Blunts I roll em' up, let’s smoke em' til' they finished
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| Humboldt County is the skunk, but Irish is the Guinness
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| Got a blunt, I like to hit it
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| No sense in fightin' with it
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| I’m a man who got a problem, time to stand up and admit it
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| I talk it and I live it
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| I never wanna quit it
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| Name is Ton, I’m addicted
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| I love you Mary Jane
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| Aye yo
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| This Kush blunt’ll make you geek like another Urkel
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| My weed life will be Goldberg, the color purple
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| Pass it in a circle, don’t fuck up the cycle
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| Puff puff, pass the fire
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| Don’t try to touch my lighter
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| I blow Dro' in a Bong
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| Smoke like Cheech and Chong, til' the Hashish gone
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| To the Kief honeycomb, and the weed is gone
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| Get your tweak on Luniz and Potluck, The Weed Song
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| You buy singles and packs, I buy boxes
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| Smoke back to back, knock niggas unconscious
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| O.G. |
| kush, one hit, make niggas vomit
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| Granddaddy Purple boy, not the average chronic
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| I used to have 5 on it, now I got G’s on it
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| You can’t outsmoke me, better P on it
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| I’ll win, sell your weed by Candy stang'
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| Triple gold Dayton thangs for that Mary Jane
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| First time I met Mary, I knew that I would hit her
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| Til' the end of 95' I was always with her
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| I rolled with her daily, she even came on tour with me
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| On stage, she wore brown to fool with me
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| In front of 50,000
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| 50,000 went nutty
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| I got screams just because of my honey
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| But somethin' good as that, I just couldn’t sit with it
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| I had to share, I let all my niggas hit it
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| It was good, so we used her, and used her, and used her
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| But my sprung ass fucked around, and abused her
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| Then I got scared, told myself I was leavin'
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| But I hit it one more time and that bitch got even
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| She got even so bad, it was damn near curtains
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| But that’s love for ya, the shit that had my heart heartin'
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| I still want ya, but right now it’s too soon
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| I’m a just settle for hittin' it every Blue Moon |