More Twenty
Welcome back again
It's four twenty
Got a blunt in my hand
I'm rolling up plenty
I might be the most smoked out Bloke on the block
I'm hoping I'm not
I take a look at the clock
It's four twenty on four twenty once more
I'm finna take take bong hits
Until my lungs sore
Grab a dab rig outta the back seat
Start taking mad rips inside a taxi
The cabby looks at me
Joins in
Now we're all higher
Lungs are on fire
Bro pass me your lighter
I ain't done yet
My crew just hit more Ls
Than you take on the set
I bet,
If you can outsmoke me that'd be glorious
But all you do is fall asleep after 3 or four hits
I'm the kid warned you about when you used to see me in school walkin round no doubt
But now I'm living my dream
Sportin Obey and Supreme
Gucci, more like vans and jeans
They warn you never to sell out
But 4/20 is the one day where I shell the fuck out
Lemme spell out my name
E L I
Repping the 508
Til the day I die
And the day I die
The whole world finna know
Everyone gonna find out
Like I'm in the Truman Show
I ain't concerned about Fame
But these dames are Aimless
The game is the fame list
So Aim this
9 millimeter
Copped a heater
From peter
When he got popped Picking his pot plants
With hot hands
From the trigger burn
When will people learn
That I'm a psycho holding A microphone like it's a Switchblade
I'm ready to get paid
I'm ready to get laid
I'm ready, I just shaved
And puffed about 6 Js
Whatever I'm insane
But eyes on the road bitch
And stay in your lane
You're crazy insane
Drive a sledgehammer Straight into the side of my brain
Nothing to gain
No pain
Just a flatline
I'm Fucking dead now
So please
End it with that rhyme
It's four twenty
Got a blunt in my hand
I'm rolling up plenty
I might be the most smoked out Bloke on the block
I'm hoping I'm not
I take a look at the clock
It's four twenty on four twenty once more
I'm finna take take bong hits
Until my lungs sore
Grab a dab rig outta the back seat
Start taking mad rips inside a taxi
The cabby looks at me
Joins in
Now we're all higher
Lungs are on fire
Bro pass me your lighter
I ain't done yet
My crew just hit more Ls
Than you take on the set
I bet,
If you can outsmoke me that'd be glorious
But all you do is fall asleep after 3 or four hits
I'm the kid warned you about when you used to see me in school walkin round no doubt
But now I'm living my dream
Sportin Obey and Supreme
Gucci, more like vans and jeans
They warn you never to sell out
But 4/20 is the one day where I shell the fuck out
Lemme spell out my name
E L I
Repping the 508
Til the day I die
And the day I die
The whole world finna know
Everyone gonna find out
Like I'm in the Truman Show
I ain't concerned about Fame
But these dames are Aimless
The game is the fame list
So Aim this
9 millimeter
Copped a heater
From peter
When he got popped Picking his pot plants
With hot hands
From the trigger burn
When will people learn
That I'm a psycho holding A microphone like it's a Switchblade
I'm ready to get paid
I'm ready to get laid
I'm ready, I just shaved
And puffed about 6 Js
Whatever I'm insane
But eyes on the road bitch
And stay in your lane
You're crazy insane
Drive a sledgehammer Straight into the side of my brain
Nothing to gain
No pain
Just a flatline
I'm Fucking dead now
So please
End it with that rhyme
Credits
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