Lyrics I Gotta Problem - Potluck

I smoked haze when my head hurt, Kush for my temper
Smoke it everyday from January to December
Sick from the munchies dr. peppers and Doritos
Southern Cali taco shops, 3 dollars for burritos
Higher than a cosmonaut who smoke the best pot
Think your weed is better? probably not
Every time I get dank, every time I show up late
Baby I don′t need rubbers cause I just shoot blanks
I look like Jackie Chan or I was from Japan
I rolls fat blunts like me cause I'm the man
My block got more firefighters than a street parade
Cause my house catchin fire from the weed I blaze
One hit of my blunt, you′ll probably need some first aid
Knew dealer's first name ever since I was in the first grade
I never roll browns so I'll never come down
My folks they grow pounds and I′ll smoke your whole town

I gotta problem getting high Rollin a blunt
I think my brain gonna fry cause I′ll be smoking too much
Everyday id be tellin myself that I need to quit
Next day I wake up puff a blunt and forget

I got tossed once more like Frisbees
Smoke more than chimneys
While the parents askin
Hey where the hell the kids be?
Were getting stoned in the red wood trees
Every hour you see us passing more weed
Smoking too much, fuckin my brain up
Thinking of Mary Jane, the way she makes me puff puff pass it
It's so fantastic, if you gots that bomb, I believe I′ll match it
Just a crazy lil dude I'm trying to stay high
It happens daily lately I′ve been living a lazy life
I should realize and recognize that I have a problem
It's just that me and weed are like batman and robin
I need weed like I need the right ring tones
I get stoned and repeat it like I′m Mike Jones
I get stoned and repeat it like I'm Mike Jones
I cut close and puff dro every time I go

I need to get help but I'm allergic to rehab
Ever since kindergarten, had a fame to be bad
I was cussin out teachers
Ditchin bumpin my speakers while I be puffin my reefer

I smoke reefer too and my whole platoon
It′s been puff puff pass since I came out the womb
Cut class, puff grass, never talked to cops
Borrowed a car from pops and hot boxed it up

Hot boxing is like a ritual around my way
Cause my smoking is habitual, a pound a day
And my mama would always said that I should never give up
So I′m a gonna keep on rollin blunts and keep a pound in my trunk

While you're rollin them blunts, we was hittin them 2 playa
While the other kids were in their rooms playin tomb raider
So many strains, so many different flavors
It′s Humboldt county homie, nobody does it greater