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Yo, you gots the joint? |
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Nah, I got the joint |
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Yo, who's got the joint? |
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We all got the joint |
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We all on point, we all on point |
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Yo, you gots the Joint? |
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Nah, I got the joint |
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Where and when, it probably fell out your ear |
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I'ma look behind the couch, finding all kinds of shit |
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Hair pins, erasers, crumbled up pieces of paper |
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Broken pagers, and a half pack of grits |
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Cuz I slipped on my floor walking up the stairs |
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Could still be camouflaged, hidin' in my hair |
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Behind my ear nestled in the back, but it ain't |
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I know because I checked, I'm still searchin' for the dank |
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You probably threw it out with your old pack of cigarettes |
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Look in the trash can, your as high as you get |
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Sometimes you forget, smokin' one to many hits |
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About to look in my caddy, down the walkway bricks |
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I jumped out the screen door, mac light in hand |
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Searchin' down the sidewalk, leadin' to my van |
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I hit the alarm and the door just slides |
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I check from front to back and side to side |
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Then I let the Alpine play |
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Got the 6 disc changer, read-out display, |
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Called my boy Dave, who gets paid to skate |
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Bling, hello, I think it fell by your gate |
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Well it's not in my van, so I checked my jeep |
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Limited edition 4x4 with leather seats |
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Looked in the ashtray and only found a roach |
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I was so fuckin' high I forgot that we had smoked |
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Yo, you gots the joint? |
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Nah, I got the joint |
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Yo, who's got the joint? |
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We all got the joint |
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We all on point, we all on point |
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Yo, you gots the Joint? |
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Nah, I got the joint |
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I got the joint, but you ain't gonna smoke it |
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Come around get cloudy, it disappeared like hokus pokus |
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King klick tokas, royalty smokers |
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Come around it disappears like hokus pokus |
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I'm gettin' amped up, in different states of mind |
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I hit a depth for a track as I prepare my rhyme, |
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Sometimes I'm real high, besides I don't lie |
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Look at all these phony people tryin to make supply |
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Yeah, you sly in your flashy suits |
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You sellouts get the fuck outta here, bail out |
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I sag my jeans, rock hemp and (??) |
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I got a 85 caddy, give a fuck about the billboard |
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You live at large with your three car garage |
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Your Ferrari, BM, and Lamborgini coutures |
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I smoke hard, blow large, keep you guessin |
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Up in the treehouse, like a bird, nestin |
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Loungin, you'll be amazed how I'm steppin |
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It's a blessin, lookin' over my ground |
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Eyes like a owl head, rotates around |
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360 degrees in a circle |
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Yo, you gots the joint? |
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Nah, I got the joint |
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Yo, who's got the joint? |
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We all got the joint |
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We all on point, we all on point |
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Yo, you gots the Joint? |
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Nah, I got the joint |
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Yo I got the joint and it's rolled with precision |
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Precisely sliced in the ends, surgical incisions |
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It's like religion, my blunt rollin' routine |
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It's a process, and yet it comes guaranteed, by me (by who?) |
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Motherfuckin' Johnny Richter |
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If you lay on the work then call me Johnny the evictor |
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To play with my money is to play with my emotions |
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Like tokens in Vegas, your ass is cash |
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I got incredible dank, as it lingers out the chamber |
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Mind blowin smoke, unbelievable taste |
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Jack frost have you lost, seeing stars in space |
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Laced up to the moon, Pluto, then Neptune |
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The earth is greenest, smokin' bong loads in Venus |
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The rings of Saturn gettin' lost in space |
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Homebase it the place we blaze the most weed |
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I gots the joint is the bomb ass (??) |
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Yo, you gots the joint? |
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Nah, I got the joint |
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Yo, who's got the joint? |
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We all got the joint |
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We all on point, we all on point |
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Yo, you gots the Joint? |
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Nah, I got the joint |
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Just a player with the big hair, baby (??) five |
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Still bumpin, getting high, constantly red eyed |
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12-28, full of bitches inside |
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1605, where the homies reside |
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We fly, first class, with the (??) |
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Rockin' vertebrae (??) wallet chains on their hips |
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Saggin' jeans, DCs, pocket full of weed |
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I got what you want, tell me what you need |
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And I'll proceed to bust out the pounds and break em down |
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Got connection to PC, Cali, and Chi-Town |
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Whether up north, down south, or the inbetween |
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Red, purple, orange, or the lizard green |
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I got the joint but you ain't gonna smoke it |
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Come around, get cloudy, it disappeared like hokus pokus |
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King klick tokas, royalty smokers |
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Come around, it disappears like hokus pokus |
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Yo, who's that peepin' in my window? |
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Hope it's not a po-po |
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Cuz then they gonna see my crops |
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I got the joint but you ain't gonna smoke it |
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Come around, get cloudy, it disappeared like hokus pokus |
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King klick tokas, royalty smokers |
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Come around, it disappears like hokus pokus |
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Back wall hydroponic system, stealthy position |
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With couple thousand watts |
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I got the joint but you ain't gonna smoke it |
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Come around, get cloudy, it disappeared like hokus pokus |
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King klick tokas, royalty smokers |
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Come around, it disappears like hokus pokus |
