Intro:



(*guy toking up*)

Fuckin buddha comin at'cha live

Direct with the biggest, fattest joint

Comin in with indo flavours

Fuckin buddha comin at'cha like this

'95



Verse 1: b-real



It's friday mornin, where the weed at?

Let me dip into my pocket for my fat weed sack

Cos i wanna get high like a plane

In the sky with the indo cloud in my brain

Where the fuck are my zig-zags and my lighters?

So i can roll it and set it on fire

Damn, i wish i had scissors cos the shit is so sticky

That it's gettin on my fuckin fingers

But it's smokeable, double tokeable

I got the one-hit that, where the bombay shit that's tokeable

I wanna do a joint venture

Let me make sure there ain't no lump in the goddamn centre

To get pregnated lookin joint, fuck it

I can smoke it and i still get faded



Chorus:



Roll it up, light it up, smoke it up

Inhale exhale

*repeat x3*



(i'm the freaker, the one freaks the funk

*repeat*



Verse 2: (sen dogg), b-real



(east coast hittin that blunt), west coast hittin that honeydip

Might he want a joint then i want another hit

Roll it up, (light it up), smoke it up

I wanna stimulate my mind (so i toke it up)

Can i get a hit? (can i get a hooh!?)

Gimme that fat bag of weed and the brew

So i can get faded, elevated

Smoke the joint down to a roach then i ate it

I stand true to the guess guy ????

(as i keep runnin from the chop-per)

Gimme dat weed fool and ya zig-zags

(puto won't be holdin out on the big bag)



Chorus



(i'm the freaker, the one who freaks the funk)

*repeat to fade*