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420

Kottonmouth Kings
Popularity ยท Low
๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ง English ยท Original

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Lyrics

Ayo X, you got the time right now? Ahh, nah, my watch is always jammed at 4:20 Bobby B, you got the time, brother? You got the time? Good afternoon, as it's known, Pacific Daylight Time will be 4:20 exactly You know, I got two states of mind, stoned and asleep First I hit the sweet leaf and then I have nice dreams When I get up, I wake and bake, take a piss and shake My clock's stopped at 4:20, what you want me to say? I stay blazed all day, no matter where I'm creepin' Hot boxin' on your block and at the spot on the weekends You'll see smoke risin', just who could it be? It's my rhyme and rhyme partner D-L-O-C Yeah, that be me, born and raised in the suburbs Faded off the bud smoke, rollin' after lunch Thanks Johnny Richter for your nice little hand-off I got some purple kush and I brought the sandbox Let's bounce some buds, we could make a little keef Spice up the leaf before we smoke the tree Everybody in the scene knows we roll the most doja That's why they label us the Kottonmouth soldiers We pack it tight, at 4-2-0, yeah, our clocks is always off We talk it down, these anti-heroes are just here to serve you props Blow that shit up, so leave those Blessings right up here upon the altar Pass it around, at 4-2-0, everybody's burning ganja You'll catch me at the smokeout smoked out droppin' tricks Havin' a blast, not givin' a fuck, doin' my thing Blowin' brains through the crowd, bein' none obnoxious Now the shots I did with Pac got me feelin' kinda nauseous But play the cool, and pulled a few snaps Big fat back rolls and had a chicken caesar wrap Dippin' through the whole place, nowhere else I'd rather be Than smokin' weed with my peeps, now I'm passin' the D Twenty-four seven, every day, every minute Everybody, every stoner, grab your bud, keep composure Weed drinkers, pill poppers, acid and freaks All the greeners in the street, heroin addicts and geeks Kottonmouth Kings signed a one-way contract To see the world and smoke the killer chronic P-Loc said it, so don't you forget it It's 4-4-2-0, you might as well know We pack it tight, at 4-2-0, yeah, our clocks is always off We talk it down, these anti-heroes are just here to serve you props Blow that shit up, so leave those Blessings right up here upon the altar Pass it around, at 4-2-0, everybody's burning ganja We pack it tight, at 4-2-0 We talk it down Blow that shit up Pass it around So pack it tight Tight up the sound This is your right Right, right So live it now Now, now, now, now