"Sativa Stillife" lyrics
(feat. Stretch Nyce)
Feeling so good I feel like just, rolling a Backwood
Uh huh, uh huh
Light that up
Uh huh, uh
Tripping over equator rhymes
A sick symmetry, guised the moonshine
Triple X Vin Diesel, ruthless then bust like twisters
The mission box cutter
Undercover brothers get smothered like Sally
Alright pally, don't bogart the Cali
That's a bone not a microphone
Billy known for perfect cones
Homegrown from clones
Have a nigga like hold the phone, holmes
Lazy on D like let's just play zone
Indeed woods, we blown, listening to (Dai Zong?)
Writing hazy poems, what amazing flowing
Oceanography song, chamber Buchman
Hunger growing, get lost in time Roman
Cannabis competitions like Romans
Still hit the woods by sloaning
Lime green or good omen
PBS reruns of Conan
Trading places at five, movies for guys who like getting high
Made of hash, UPS from Seattle
Secret stash, stretched, don't tattle
Charge up a nigga like the Huntsville chairs
Spark this and we ain't going no where
Like a pantsuit made of Mohair
Stuck in a closet like we stuck in these chairs
I need a monkey to get beers
And some Entenmann's from downstairs
Phone ringing, can you get that please?
No doubt, but turn down the TV
Hello? Right, I'll tell him. Damn billy b
This nigga told me you was supposed to work at 3
What you say? Don't play
Oh man, muhfuckin I thought it was Sunday
Chrome-fit lyrics, red zone...
And that's the real, like unemployment and light bills
Cans of Enfamil, or living off major labor deals
But what would I know about that?
No reasonable doubt, came in on my own back
Saw the lame, took it to the rat (no joke)
Saw the game, yeah tip, I think they smoke crack
Industry rule # something or another (one of them)
These cats will sell their own mothers
Tell you whatever you wanna hear like undercovers
So I'm in the woods all runaway slave
Underground like Bin Laden in his cave
Put pen to page till I see my grave
Fight the power til I see a cage
Stay blazed til I run out of haze (picture that)
Invasion of the mic snatchers, pirate radio
Black flags, eye patches
Wildin' like when Dirt McGirt was just an old bastard
Spitamat to the death, flesh of my flesh
And that's deeper than contracts or lawyers
Huckleberry and Tom Sawyer
Tango and Cash
Gates lace the track with straight nerve gas
Backwoodz on smash, mad joints on stash
Bad plaques coming out the ass (we don't care)
The shit's still trash, ain't gonna last
Like me in Amsterdam with a gram of hash
You wanna smoke? Better get here fast
I gotta laugh (ha ha ha), cause in the past
Sucker emcees got the gas face
Now I gotta ski mask
Cause rap police be trying to blast
Same mufuckers snitching on MTV, showing his ass
All y'all crabs need to get back in your labs
Make something heads gonna feel
Don't you know, don't you know (don't you know?)
Life's ill
Uh huh, uh huh
Light that up
Uh huh, uh
Tripping over equator rhymes
A sick symmetry, guised the moonshine
Triple X Vin Diesel, ruthless then bust like twisters
The mission box cutter
Undercover brothers get smothered like Sally
Alright pally, don't bogart the Cali
That's a bone not a microphone
Billy known for perfect cones
Homegrown from clones
Have a nigga like hold the phone, holmes
Lazy on D like let's just play zone
Indeed woods, we blown, listening to (Dai Zong?)
Writing hazy poems, what amazing flowing
Oceanography song, chamber Buchman
Hunger growing, get lost in time Roman
Cannabis competitions like Romans
Still hit the woods by sloaning
Lime green or good omen
PBS reruns of Conan
Trading places at five, movies for guys who like getting high
Made of hash, UPS from Seattle
Secret stash, stretched, don't tattle
Charge up a nigga like the Huntsville chairs
Spark this and we ain't going no where
Like a pantsuit made of Mohair
Stuck in a closet like we stuck in these chairs
I need a monkey to get beers
And some Entenmann's from downstairs
Phone ringing, can you get that please?
No doubt, but turn down the TV
Hello? Right, I'll tell him. Damn billy b
This nigga told me you was supposed to work at 3
What you say? Don't play
Oh man, muhfuckin I thought it was Sunday
Chrome-fit lyrics, red zone...
And that's the real, like unemployment and light bills
Cans of Enfamil, or living off major labor deals
But what would I know about that?
No reasonable doubt, came in on my own back
Saw the lame, took it to the rat (no joke)
Saw the game, yeah tip, I think they smoke crack
Industry rule # something or another (one of them)
These cats will sell their own mothers
Tell you whatever you wanna hear like undercovers
So I'm in the woods all runaway slave
Underground like Bin Laden in his cave
Put pen to page till I see my grave
Fight the power til I see a cage
Stay blazed til I run out of haze (picture that)
Invasion of the mic snatchers, pirate radio
Black flags, eye patches
Wildin' like when Dirt McGirt was just an old bastard
Spitamat to the death, flesh of my flesh
And that's deeper than contracts or lawyers
Huckleberry and Tom Sawyer
Tango and Cash
Gates lace the track with straight nerve gas
Backwoodz on smash, mad joints on stash
Bad plaques coming out the ass (we don't care)
The shit's still trash, ain't gonna last
Like me in Amsterdam with a gram of hash
You wanna smoke? Better get here fast
I gotta laugh (ha ha ha), cause in the past
Sucker emcees got the gas face
Now I gotta ski mask
Cause rap police be trying to blast
Same mufuckers snitching on MTV, showing his ass
All y'all crabs need to get back in your labs
Make something heads gonna feel
Don't you know, don't you know (don't you know?)
Life's ill
