Redman - SourDeezal ft. Ready Roc | Текст песни

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• Redman
• SourDeezal ft. Ready Roc

Gilla House
Let’s go

I smoke purp to the hay
Smoke hays to the cheese
Smoke cheese to the cush
Smoke cush to the sour deezal
And I ain’t feeling anything
When I roll a bomb
Alright, alright (yes sir)
It’s Gilla House

Rolling up the marijuana rud
Jack Carell raw in the blood
Redman, my code name Cheech
Hash burns all in my car seats
I was a baby boy like Terese
Gettin’ a LB4, rock the bells release
Mr. Bring, yea, that’s me
Got the knockout thud du Mohammad Ali
Young survive Marty when I speak
Popo, I had the but in the briefs
The highest of higher, you boys all buy ‘er
Smokin’ with me is like tryna Get Him To The Greek
4-20, I light up the keith
I’m a wiz at getting the cover seat in this driss
Bill Clinton said he hit weed in his speech
I smoke sour every day of the week, nigga
Preach!

I smoke purp to the hay
Smoke hays to the cheese
Smoke cheese to the cush
Smoke cush to the sour deezal
And I ain’t feeling anything
When I roll a bomb
Alright, alright
It’s Gilla House

Let’s go
Smoke with you
Ok
The fire
Gilla House in the building
Come smoke with me with me
Brick City
Let’s go get higher
This bomb is so official
Now breathe it in
All in your system
Gilla House

Blunt sour cush, cheese and purple sour deezal
I call that smoking reefa
I keep weed in my system
And truth be told, I get high to Blake Griffin
And just imagine what I’m sippin’
To drink this you’re gonna need a prescription
So it better be high grade if you’re sellin’ me
And never start no cipher without tellin’ me
Cup empty, I need a refill
Sign is chased this E pill
I hit my dealer at 3 AM
I wonder if he got hash still
This Gilla House what I’m reppin’
I stay high, get fly, I’m a Jetson
Now I’m on my high horse like a wespen
And I never leave the house without protection
That something that the pastor can’t preach
But that something that a jail could teach
To get high we put our money on weed
And we probly spend it all cuz the sour ain’t cheap
Chiefer

I smoke purp to the hay
Smoke hays to the cheese
Smoke cheese to the cush
Smoke cush to the sour deezal
And I ain’t feeling anything
When I roll a bomb
Alright, alright
It’s Gilla House
It’s Gilla House
It’s Gilla House

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