Lyric Budsmokers Only
Budsmokers only. Budsmokers only, only.
Wish:
So if niggas be passin that weed on to them thugsta niggas from Cleveland, gonna smoke til it s all gone. Now, we wanna
bong, cause a nigga be creepin . Called all my thugstas--all them niggas drank. Called all my thugstas--all them niggas smoke
weed. Gotta get me some, now.
Krayzie:
Gotta get me some hydro, gotta choke, let me loc with a little bit of smoke in my throat. Can t let-a me high go, goin broke.
Mo Thug hit the bud up, and then get up upon me inhale, just light up a blunt, and me roll fat one to get P.O.D. ded. They
label me killa, drugdealer, that realer nigga, Krayzie weeded.
Layzie:
Blaze up a blunt, gotta have that hydro, need me a hit of the tweed, made me drop to me knees. and I gotta give love to the
green leaves, steadily spendin that cheese, feelin at ease. Thuggin on off in the cut, now, and I m checkin on how this shit s
on. In a raid, smoked out with my nigga, Tav, smokin that tweed til we fall to our grave.
Bizzy:
Make up me dummy to make up me money. Weed run me, and headed for broke, smoke the bong, hit the bong wrong, nigga,
me cough and choke. We, the real O.T. s loc strong, Bone. I gotta C-note to toke on. So choke on, me holdin the smoke til
it s gone. Come along, and stay long.
Krayzie:
Wanna get you fucked up. Wanna get you fucked up.
Bizzy:
Hey, now, pass me some reefer.
Wish:
Mr. Inventor-of-the-green-leaves, gotta give P s, cause I love this type shit. And it s never gonna quit. Nana told better stop,
but, man, fuck that bitch. Me never gon stop me smoke, try to tell me, gauge in your throat. Gotsta run me on, fuckin with
Bone, lovin this weed song.
Krayzie:
Runnin with me trues, swiggin on brews, steady be losin me balance. Take a puff to the dome, trippin off Flesh Bone,
showin off me talent. Smokin til a me die, nigga gotta get high, if you wanna come ride, come with me, smokin a blunt and
get nice, nigga, take a weed fiend s advice.
Layzie:
Feelin all (...?...), quarter-roll to the brain, smokin like blunt after blunt, my niggas is insane, other niggas can t hang. It s a
Bone thang how a nigga smoke and maintain and remain #1. Here I come with the tweed in my chest. Nigga, got his wig to
the curb, split up and serve, but fuck it, gotta have them green herbs.
Bizzy:
If ya got bag of tweed, well blaze it with me, fool. Now, don t be stingy, and please no pinnas, make it swollen. Cause if I had
me some weed, you know I d smoke it with you. Come, come get with-a me; me and my niggas blunts be rollin .
Budsmokers only. Budsmokers only, only.
Krayzie:
I take a hit of the reefer, keep smokin .
Wish:
So if niggas be passin that weed on to them thugsta niggas from Cleveland, gonna smoke til it s all gone. Now, we wanna
bong, cause a nigga be creepin . Called all my thugstas--all them niggas drank. Called all my thugstas--all them niggas smoke
weed. Gotta get me some, now.
Krayzie:
Gotta get me some hydro, gotta choke, let me loc with a little bit of smoke in my throat. Can t let-a me high go, goin broke.
Mo Thug hit the bud up, and then get up upon me inhale, just light up a blunt, and me roll fat one to get P.O.D. ded. They
label me killa, drugdealer, that realer nigga, Krayzie weeded.
Layzie:
Blaze up a blunt, gotta have that hydro, need me a hit of the tweed, made me drop to me knees. and I gotta give love to the
green leaves, steadily spendin that cheese, feelin at ease. Thuggin on off in the cut, now, and I m checkin on how this shit s
on. In a raid, smoked out with my nigga, Tav, smokin that tweed til we fall to our grave.
Bizzy:
Make up me dummy to make up me money. Weed run me, and headed for broke, smoke the bong, hit the bong wrong, nigga,
me cough and choke. We, the real O.T. s loc strong, Bone. I gotta C-note to toke on. So choke on, me holdin the smoke til
it s gone. Come along, and stay long.
Krayzie:
Wanna get you fucked up. Wanna get you fucked up.
Bizzy:
Hey, now, pass me some reefer.
Wish:
Mr. Inventor-of-the-green-leaves, gotta give P s, cause I love this type shit. And it s never gonna quit. Nana told better stop,
but, man, fuck that bitch. Me never gon stop me smoke, try to tell me, gauge in your throat. Gotsta run me on, fuckin with
Bone, lovin this weed song.
Krayzie:
Runnin with me trues, swiggin on brews, steady be losin me balance. Take a puff to the dome, trippin off Flesh Bone,
showin off me talent. Smokin til a me die, nigga gotta get high, if you wanna come ride, come with me, smokin a blunt and
get nice, nigga, take a weed fiend s advice.
Layzie:
Feelin all (...?...), quarter-roll to the brain, smokin like blunt after blunt, my niggas is insane, other niggas can t hang. It s a
Bone thang how a nigga smoke and maintain and remain #1. Here I come with the tweed in my chest. Nigga, got his wig to
the curb, split up and serve, but fuck it, gotta have them green herbs.
Bizzy:
If ya got bag of tweed, well blaze it with me, fool. Now, don t be stingy, and please no pinnas, make it swollen. Cause if I had
me some weed, you know I d smoke it with you. Come, come get with-a me; me and my niggas blunts be rollin .
Budsmokers only. Budsmokers only, only.
Krayzie:
I take a hit of the reefer, keep smokin .
