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My mission: the commission of the dishin out for facts |
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Cuz when I'm dimin' my rhymin never slacks, never lacks |
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So get back to the basics and face it. |
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The American dream aint what it seems |
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With lies they've laced it. Can't you taste it? |
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See they baste it in an imitation butter. |
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We've ate it and realized its not nature to mother |
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Generic like no other, man, fuck big brotha! |
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The Kottonmouth King klick. Are you blind or somethin? |
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Are you blind to the facts? You think that this system, |
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That this society, sees any other color other than green? |
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Well it's all slave-driven. The illusion of ownership in America |
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Property is theft, that's how we livin' |
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The bong tokin' alcoholics |
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Gettin bent every night is the thing we do |
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Wakin' up every day in the afternoon. |
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I crawl out the bed on the way to the shower |
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Gotta hurry up I got a date in an hour. |
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Call my boy X on the shower phone. |
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'What's up, Saint? Man, I'm stoned alone |
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By the way I got the freaks on point |
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Call up the krew, hook it up. Lata.' |
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I hung up with X and gave my boys a holla. |
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D-loc picked up said 'What's up balla?' |
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Just droppin a dime and time about this party |
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There'll be a lotta beer and some naughty hotties |
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I'll call Bobby let him know the plan, |
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And we'll bounce through in the nitrate van. |
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We'll take a road trip, 40-sip on the way |
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Oh yeah X commin' through with some freaks from the Bay |
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Bong tokin alcoholics, the Kottonmouth tilt is what we call it, |
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The bong tokin alcoholics, step back I'm bout to crack |
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Legalize it! |
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The bong tokin alcoholics |
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We drank up a fifth and sparked a bowl |
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Humble Gods on the radio bumpin' real low. |
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I reach into the back and pull out the 64, |
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I took it to the head like a mothafuckin' pro |
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Yo, that drink got me on tilt, |
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Ya better sit down cuz you about to spill |
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Now we approach up on the corner of the house party |
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I'm down, I'm told...? |
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Conversation with the krew, I thought you knew to pass the brew |
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Tasted kinda freaked, Saint your ass is through |
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Break out the beer bong man, I wanna get faded |
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Cuz drinkin' out the bottle is just so overrated, |
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We got the 22, we're fillin' up on Mickeys |
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Now what's up you drunk bitch? You spillin' on my Dickies |
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Well boost up the bass, go easy on the treble |
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And let 'em all know that we some psycho rebels |
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With our pants saggin', skates in our hand |
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With our pants saggin', skates in our hand |
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With our pants saggin', skates in our hand |
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Now we're rollin' 3 deep and we don't give a damn |
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Bong tokin alcoholics, the Kottonmouth tilt is what we call it |
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The bong tokin alcoholics, step back I'm bout to crack |
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Legalize it! |
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The bong tokin alcoholics |
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I got the blunts and I got the beer |
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Daddy X hits skins in the rear view mirror |
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We walked up to the spot, the keg's our destination |
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Cuz runnin' local parties is a nightly occupation |
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I went to get a beer, felt a finger in my back |
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'Hey I like your shirt', yeah I see it is quite phat |
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But no time to mack cuz Saint's drunk as hell |
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He was standin' on the table and he started to yell, |
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'All the freaks up in the party, move around and shake your body |
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And if you're down with the boys of P-Town |
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Lemme see somebody get naughty. |
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Is the west coast in the house? |
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Then pick it up, pick it up, pick it up!' |
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Well get naughty they did and these girls start to strip, |
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Started freakin' on my shit and her boyfriend tried to trip |
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I said 'You talk shit, punk? Let's step outside' |
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He put his fists up, I put em on his eye |
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He got a left to the cheek, skateboard to the dome, |
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I busted out the (?) and took his girlie home |
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Bong tokin alcoholics, the Kottonmouth tilt is what we call it, |
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The bong tokin alcoholics, step back I'm bout to crack |
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Legalize it! |
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The bong tokin alcoholics |
