Highed Up

Uhh, Yeahh
Rest In Peace Pimp C
Fool
Yeah, Uh
Some of my joints be tight, some of my joints be fucked up
But all my joints gon' smoke so G's gon' get highed up

Fuck all that shit you talk
You ain't got no Byzantine chain
Chutes & Ladders, Chevy's - candy canes
Bitches tangled in my slang - pilot language
We assassinate them lames
Flash my high beams
Get the fuck up out our lane
Say Trade, I swear this shit going how we planned it
Less a couple niggas though, I ain't really tripping though
See 'em when we see 'em
Send 'em bottles and a couple hoes
Spread love is the Jet way
All day, me and my bitch riding to that Biggie
Up to Texas chopping wit big Bun up out a meal ticket
Real niggas from my set know I still kick it
Others be like I don't fuck with 'em
That's why I don't fuck with 'em
I don't know why though, I ain't ever fuck with 'em
Would never do that to 'em, if I came up with 'em
Well fuck niggas
We roll up bigger than you used to seeing
Smoking em in places you ain't used to being
This is trill nigga season
Real niggas eating scrap
Get the scraps if we leave em
Yeah

Some of my joints be tight, some of my joints be fucked up
But all my joints gon' smoke so G's gon get highed up

Some of my joints be tight, some of my joints be fucked up
But all my joints gon' smoke so my bitches get highed up