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Smoke this blunt |
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Yo, everybody grab a seat, welcome to SmokeFest '99 |
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I'm glad you all could make it |
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As you can see admission was free this SmokeFest this year |
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All the ****** you see is free, but the blunts cost sixty bucks, baby |
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CaTashTraphe , I shoot it through, dipped in twenty-four karats |
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If y'all ******s don't feel me, then I blame it on your parents |
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'Cuz Tash ****** it up, don't twist it up wit luck |
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My style is cold like I bought it off the ice cream truck |
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Listen here, Tash be cra************n' ******s wit my beer |
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Tash be partied down as ****** swingin' off the chandelier |
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Tash be here, Tash be there |
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Tash be everywhere it's poppin' |
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I'm here to let you know ******' wit me is not an option |
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'Cuz Tash is my name, Tash'll start it wit a bang |
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Tash'll end it wit a, that's not the same thing |
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Tash'll split your frame, Tash swings like gold chains |
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I be rollin' wit King T, and we all in the same game |
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But enough about CaTash, let's talk about some skrill |
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You know it's bout to pop if Likwit Crew is on the bill |
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You can ask my ****** Phil how real this is, the ****** |
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SmokeFest '99 burn something to the beat |
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Damn man, y'all came all the way from where, man? |
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"All the way from Mobile, Alabama" |
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(Smoke, SmokeFest time) |
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Oh yeah, you got sixty bucks for a blunt? |
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"Yessir, we came to smoke some blunts wit you baby" |
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I was lookin' to get my skull blowed up like Kid Dynamtie, the time is right |
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Be ridin' the track so fiercely that it seems that I'm already high tonight |
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But I'm not though just on them Black & Mild ones |
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And people thinkin' I'm the wild one 'cuz I be flippin' |
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And rippin' the track and verbally attackin' on yo' style for fun |
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Higher soul but to please myself I gotta be composin' that fly ************t |
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And you notifying Alkaholiks daily |
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So punk mother****** you better duck ************ |
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What do you need boy, rap and some my boys are still in the trap |
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I mean the **** spot, but the slangin' got my snappin' like the rope hot |
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I can be the player you wanna bust wit |
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Or ****** you don't even wanna go ****** wit |
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Or nup wit, you suck ************, so why you all up on my nuts quick |
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I hold the microphone and that's wit a vice grip, really tightly |
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And I'm keepin the words crystal clear |
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So you gon' correct when you try to bite thee |
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Very nicely, Aquemini my ******, not a Pisces |
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But I likely, gon' fetch a sack of that green stuff |
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While I write G, yeah yeah right |
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Hard life, now picture this |
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A ****** in jail, rappin' while his folk in the next cell |
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Tappin' wit some spoons, we do rank the boom boom |
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Fresh off a planet wit sand dunes and maroon moons |
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Soakin' wet wounds, titty tanglin' tunes |
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Musty under arms, soul shlong charm |
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Bump off in the drums, rhythm on the one |
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Stankonious under smellin' where I'm comin' from son |
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The day you bone is when you start to die |
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The time in between us will mean the most, I toast my high |
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************t gets so bad, I know it make you wanna cry |
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But suck it up, button up, go ahead and do your thing |
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For I'm already high |
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Smoke, SmokeFest time |
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Yo yo yo, whenever I'm writing, you can call me Philly Titan |
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Reciting to you an interview like Phil Donahue |
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Me and my crew, translate Los Angeles, scandalous, like Watergate |
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Phil on the break, Phil on the break |
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Phil fill in the blank, it feels bad like gettin' shanked |
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Fill out your taxes, I'm writin' exact on my axis |
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From my head down to my Air Max's, Phil waxes and relaxs |
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Phil also fills up mental food up in your gully basket |
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My name is Jason when I fill out my application |
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To the nation, ******s is gonna get in filled what they facin' |
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Phil feel the ration, Phil feel the adrenaline |
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I penetrate like penicillin, ******s be like "Phil is illin'!" |
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Phil is willin' and ready, Phil is Raw like Eddie |
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Phil be cuttin up like machetes and confetti |
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Deadly, Phil feel the pain when I walk through the rain |
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******s be like "He sayin Phil again, Phil again, Phil again" |
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Smoke, SmokeFest time |
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Hey hey hey |
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Peace rap world, I'd like to make a special announcement right about now |
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We have a special guest that just stepped in the house |
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You know this man, he the smokiest cat in rap music |
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He goes by the name of the Doctor Greenthumb, smoke 'em out |
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Now I be, rollin' and smokin' and holdin the golden sack |
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When my lungs be gettin' swollen, hittin' the bong foldin' |
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For chronic ironic, growin' the hydroponic |
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We got it, robotic hits you on melodic tricks of sonic |
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SmokeFest, expandin' your chest |
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Buddha bless best, for you to step back |
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'Cuz your lyrics are like cess ******, yes indeed |
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The session you need to retrieve it |
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It's ten ******s in a circle smokin' a spliff, believe it, retrieve it |
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Over the counter, can you conceive it |
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I give you Doctor Greenthumb digits, but don't repeat it |
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The Brew Crew and the Buddah Masters together |
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Gettin' you higher and ******' you up that much faster |
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Zig Zags, blunt leafs, pipes and bong-bowls |
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All be gettin' smoked at the Buddha head shows |
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Excuse me, if it seems too complicated |
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The herb I hold is platinum while yours is nickel plated |
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Let me mash out, I'm breakin' the stash out, the hash out |
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I roll into the studio and smoke my ****** Tash out |
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(Smoke, SmokeFest time) |
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Wit that Doctor Greenthumb ************t, know what I mean? |
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Smoke, SmokeFest time |