fried
tank on E but i got that stank on me
gassed up in this bitch is you higher than me?
got a pack a swish a bowl and home made bongs
fast food fried nigga im dipped like a sunday cone
so light i look mixed youd think im a blasian
cause my eyes on chink like a nigga part asian
dank in my system blunts in my pocket
traveling to space on a mf rocket
rollin blowin back to back
facing blunts thats tall as shaq
so high up aint comin down
kush so loud it made a sound
This poem is about:
Me
My community
My country
Our world