She was on the phone talking for a while,
Thumbs down to the nigga like she needed a ride,
Her address was the house without a chimney,
Never left the bottle’s grisly grip,
she had to hold that firm Ak 47,
with 3 bullets I aint talking guns.
Tounge out, that shit so blue
In love with the flowers,
sativa she grew,
She loves being stoned not like steve in the Bible.
Sleep naked, lights off, hand under the pillow holding a rifle
Faded visions, scary creatures,
she turned up and smiled,
Like they all were welcome but she noticed nothing.
Wake up and roll a blunt in bed, then light up her world,
Eff up, she only stares and never says a word.
Piercing on the face, looking like a hooker
You wish for blow jobs, and she blow you a hookah.
Tattoos on her belly, could that be cannabis.
Thumbs to the trap queen, buy her some cannabis.
In love with middle fingers cause she could sit on it,
Turn you on like a mic, dick out and she spit on it.
Jogger pants, tank tops, sunshade.
Its her birthday, pop that ace of spade
It’s true she’s lazy, but the truth
Is she’s always stoned.
Eyes fallen like olympus built on fake stones
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