J.R. Writer

J.R. Writer - High Music lyrics

rate me

Uh, DipSet

It go cop a pie, cop a brick

Cop an ounce, cop a nick

Get the yay and get away

If you say it's not that piff

Make ya lighter flick

Let's get high as shit

Spark that blunt

If its crack, smack, you backtrack

Puff, puff pass that

Dime put you to sleep

That's what I call a "nap-sack"

From a dub of that "yeah"

To some bud, I don't care

Put your drugs in the air

I get left off of trees

On a jet to Belize (we out)

My first sess, I believe (was what?)

Was some regular weed (okay)

And had me staggering over

Plus kept a bad aroma

Copped it uptown, but called it "Arizona"

It was gruesome you know

I was zooted fo' sho

Stuck on it ‘til someone introduced me to ‘dro

Hit the stoop for an O

On the move, on the go

Then got the munchies, next move was the sto'

Those were the old days, when I got so blazed

But now the pimp switched, its purple and gold haze

That had my whole days, so dazed

Locked fade, no shades, okay, sitting in the OJs

It's more like my music, roll and get high music

Burn your man a copy, go and get high to it

This is how I do it

Till I get high, zooted, booted

Get from around me, ya blonde ma stupid

Getting high, roll a lye, crack a Dutch smoke up [repeated]

Getting high, roll a lye, crack a Dutch smoke up

Get the piff, make a brick, get a lick roll up

Get the piff, make a brick, get a lick roll up

Yeah, I met this chick, ooh

Six-two, thick boobs, skip through

Wrist blue, yup and J loved the way she switched moves

But the bitch was just too crazy (why?)

Haze, B?

Not at all, all she did was sniff glue (what?)

She used to get wopped

Run up a strip block

Squeeze the glue out the bottle

Breathed it out the Ziploc

Ain't have it all up there

Ain't have it all upstairs

Pacing, hallucinating, thinking should could walk on air

She used to talk and share

All of her thoughts, affairs

All facing a wall, "Ma who's over there?"

"Look, I'm over here" (come over here)

Yeah come over here

Matter of fact take another whiff till your nose hair flare

Getting high, roll a lye, crack a Dutch smoke up [repeated]

Getting high, roll a lye, crack a Dutch smoke up

Get the piff, make a brick, get a lick roll up

Get the piff, make a brick, get a lick roll up

Yo I used to stay seated in the lobby

With keys I got from poppi

Yay day to day, hitting fiends off was a hobby

That weed you copped was throppy (trash)

Boobie, ma usually turned ‘em into pookey

Beam it up to Scottie

I was a hard flipper

They were some hard hitters

Shit for that hard nigga, they stole some car mirrors

Stereos, TVs, just for a bigger rock

Get your drop, stripped and got, left on cinder blocks (damn)

I took a gang empire

Shit I was slanging fire (crack)

Till them fiends start to lean and got straight up wired

They couldn't hang they liars

Shit them cats, couldn't get the monkey off they back with a tranquilizer

Getting high, roll a lye, crack a Dutch smoke up [repeated]

Getting high, roll a lye, crack a Dutch smoke up

Get the piff, make a brick, get a lick roll up

Get the piff, make a brick, get a lick roll up

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