The name is George Washington, but it’s “The General” to you, Or you could call me President 1 or 3 or 2 And you probably heard a lot a silly stories ‘bout me But let me lay it down how raw it really used to be
I got a hemp operation, back at the plantation Selling the stickiest shit around the new nation So come run and find me if you wanna get high Cause honestly, I got the bombest, I cannot tell a lie
Pick it, dry it, of course I’m gonna try it Bag it, brick it, and then just let ‘em buy it And if the Brits wanna come to take a piece of the cut I’ll raise a whole fuckin’ army, let ‘em see what’s what
The King’s like, “Yo…I gotta get paid” I’m like, “Tuff titty, cause yall’s a whole ocean away. And you can try to send some ships just to make me pay up, But that’s an awful long way just to sick these nuts.”
You get my fuckin’ message son? Take it Thomas Jefferson:
Chorus:
Sell drugs, run guns, nail sluts, and fuck the law, We’re founding fathers, we’re Rushmore Shit And we were all high as balls
The Declaration of Independence I wrote so high I’m surprised it makes sense But we take these truths to be self-evident It goes puff puff pass, the next round you get skipped
Abe Lincoln, I know what you’re thinkin’ Greatest President ever…I’ll have what he’s drinkin’ Ha ha, yeah, well see, that’s where you’d be wrong Cause if you wanna chill with me you better go and grab that bong
Or an apple or a can, see you do not understand Faded 24/7 cause that’s just the way I am I can see you’re having a little trouble believing me Then check this letter that I wrote, recorded down in history:
Ahem…“Two of my favorite things are sitting on my porch And smoking a pipe of that sweet hemp of course.” That’s a quote that I wrote while I was still in office But enough of that I am too high, I have to back up off this.
Where’s my horse I think I need to go and ride him home I was supposed to leave about four score and twenty riffs ago You see my hat? I like it I kinda think it looks like a stove Scratch it, pass it one more time and let me hit it for the road.
Chorus
And don’t let ‘em try and tell ya’ we grew it just for rope You can check what we wrote down in our harvest notes We separated seeds that we found more potent In layman’s terms we were into getting’ bent.
Smokin’ out the Continental Congress Everybody’s bitches be like all up on us Patrick Henry’s in the corner lookin’ pretty well spent Ben Franklin got so high he forgot to be President.
Your girl just said she never had it hit so good. Smoked so many trees my fuckin’ teeth turned wood. And if they make a monument to me when I die It’ll be a giant abstract joint up in the sky.
But you know they’re gonna whitewash me… Make up some corny shit about me choppin’ cherry trees It’s hard to control a people if their Founder’s a thug So they’ll just teach that I was all prayers, puppies, and hugs.
But that just ain’t the way it was We set this whole place up with a hell of a buzz. So next time they try to tell ya that this stuff is wrong, Look at a dolla, light a blunt, fucking sing my song,
Chorus
We’re the Founders, and we found this, And we found it, with some Canabiss We’re the Founders, and we found this, And we found it, with some Canabiss
Mount Rushmore Crew: Stone monument to some monumental stoners. Ha ha! G Washington, T Jefferson, and A Lincoln And fuck that other guy…Calvin Coolidge?…whoever the fuck... We History.