i smoke weed every day and i know that shit sounds old dealer out of town got me rolling up the brown gold in a backwood i don t care about the rest preparing up a sesh to put some hair up on your chest if you know me i m into blunts like pokeys it s roll three then the fourth with the roach weed smoke heavy got my eyes turning red smoke five to the head make one rise from the dead there s five to a pack so i gotta get my cash worth make em into eight i m a master with the patchwork chop em down and i burn em to the last birch on the internet watching miley make her ass twerk making hits been wrecking them steady it s a second gen so i reckon get my pen ready it s cam groves with spose another roach to the bowl add em up and then we smoking some more mother fuckers i definitely have a joint roach in my basement i can go check i have one in my backpack too i think it s old as fuck but it might mostly be filter but i ll grab it spizzy i smoke a couple ounces a tour my wife calls that a problem but we haven t divorced sometimes there s not enough to keep smoking right so i scrape the resin out of shards in my broken pipes paper clips when i forget to cop the dank at times emergency surgically herbally i m dr frankenstein candle lit up in the basement that s the ambiance unroll then re rolling roaches into zombie blunts i got no limit what we ll patch up brown gold look like foxy cleopatra we enter the sarcophagus and open the tomb mummification impatient get to smoke in the room memories of past sessions all float into plumes put the shovel to the ashtray the body s exhumed man when life megabytes like a download find us in a cemetery digging up that brown gold