another day gone...    sittin in my livin room pullin on some tubes  no more bubble berry so i settled for the blue  snapped it through and my lungs start to hurt  hold it in long enough it’ll put your dick in the dirt  and people go bizerk tryin’ to get their hands on it  most commonly heard phraze is, "Richter’s got the chronic"  so i’m on it, matter of fact i’m on the top  can’t nobody fuck with me or the Killa Kali crops  like reebox yo i’m un stoppable  and the bowls that i pack are un-pop able  so what you grow all i want to know is what seed   what system you using you got the lights you need   you got a masters degree from the weed ivy leagues  or you a cop without a clue just lookin for a lead    life rolls on  its passin by your eyes real fast  another 24 another day is passed  half of those said we’d never last    hey loc i think its time to grow again fuck it  if you’re gonna grow you better come pick up your bucket  alright im comin through ay yo grab some mountain dew (what)  a pack of zig zags and a couple of brews  i cruise through in the blue too with the basetubes  i too got the big bumps keep my caddy dumped  dont front on this trunk stump on my bangin bus  we’ll erupt on that blunts but turn that shit to dust  dusk to dawn just like the modern day Cheech and Chong  Tim and Dustin on the bong smokin mad amounts of ganj  writtin songs playin pong we was young we don’t belong  stealing cigarettes and bongs we was kids gettin it on   but now we’re both standing strong 2000 and beyond  to dawns at ? used to fight to get along  that was way back then and this is right now  we’re on a mission to get it smoke and bone the hell out    life rolls on  its passin by your eyes real fast  another 24 another day is passed  half of those said we’d never last    there’s 420 ways to blaze  use one it tastes great when you smokin out the vape  mind haze sit back it’ll put you in a trance  grab your sack relax and throw your cap up on the hat rack  throw your feet up recline just chill   we just smoked a eighth of the mother fuckin Kill  for real hold it in now we goin on a ride  the bud inside aint nothing to fuck with  some santa cruz that we got at john’s crib  the crip that you never find around  the reason you can’t find it in your city or your town  because it sits in my bedroom in piles and mounds  we got pounds and pounds that the world dont know about  if i sold it yo they’d all be in the clouds  smoke em out without a doubt  yo its not for the money   its all for the head and gettin stoned with my homies