[Wiz Khalifa] Thousand pounds of weed Riding in my car so fast I wont turn down the speed Them hoes dont use they feet no more, they break down to their knees And suck me like a king Rose in my champagne glass and diamonds in my ring Uh, roll some, thats your bitch on my dick, I might let her hold something You niggas smoking sevens Imma need a whole onion, whole youngin, oh Same ones that hate, same ones that tag along No Blackberry, too many lame niggas call my phone Call me world wide Wiz cause I’m never home Ever leave me round your bitch I’mma get her stoned And you know that, I rock camos and throwbacks And go download some of my old track and go play somewhere there’s hoes at Fucking high, and you down there where them lows at Gettin tired of hearing my flow jacked go head hand me a joint you cant roll that
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I got a whole lot of hochie, and I’m rolling up for anyone in here that knows me Everybody smoking, yeaaaaaaaaa its a partyyyyyyyy, oh, its a party Everybody smoking papers, nobody smoking blunts Bitches rolling weed and my niggas f-cked up yeaaaaaaaaa its a partyyyyyyyy, oh, its a party
[Chevy Woods] Quarter pound of that sour, thats four days on tour Sleeping on how we smoke, see all these pillows on this floor Every state we score, fill those papers they be raw Look like a piece of chalk in my hand but I aint writing on the chalkboard And I heard its a party, its a party its a party but I’m cool Them niggas smoking garbage, I’m no fool We give 5 j’s out half zips? Nigga thats really smoking Aint enough weed up in that swisha to get you high, you joking Niggas claim that they be high, they be hella low When they gang up in the building you gon’ smell that sour smoke I could get that shit from my backyard, go pick it out myself Yellow light let me slow it down, niggas need some help 28 aint enough you need more All this weed over here, thats 1 weed jar When them planes get the flying, niggas wanna part Smoking crash with the plane, Amelia Earhart
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[Neako] What I smoke in one day, these niggas dont smoke in one week Riding round and its just me, Pepsi can, playing that Bun B Gotta smoke that dope on the run with me, comfortably, I’m smoking weed Doing speeds, who with me, probably a chick from TMZ I make her roll like two or three, let her smoke and feel the breeze Ya’ll chip in on a half a zip, counting grams, saving weed Average shit, it was us just smoking out in NY Swear to GOD we let ten fly, thats ten planes with ten guys Nine smoke, meaning someone left without his mind pot Planes Continental, flights nonstop You get some zips, well get some P’s Smoke your spliffs and ragged bitch tell me how does she breath Perfect planes, we call them G6′s And its just me chilling, me and three bitches Rolling up its cool, come take this bong rip Pack this bold straight dope, make your lungs rip