Bowl packed with green
My lady hitting the piece
I watch her toch,then she passes it to me and I hit the baby green;
As the smoke rises
The room turns to cloud
Its our mind in a trance
We play music,then we dance
Grindin,dippin,every one here is really trippin
Not off some drug
But the herbal leaf
Its no secret,not even from the government
We let it be known that we smoke maryjane
Aint nothing wrong about it cause its not a chemical;
So I write this for the lyrical ryme,while with my girl
Smoking a blunt,getting blown out of our minds...
Still though,
Don't put aside reality just beacuse of your high
Recognize your wrongs and rights,learn from what occrances you come across
It will all be worth the knowledge of life,cause in the end you know you lived your life!
