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Correct High Rollers Lyrics
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Proof
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Correct High Rollers
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(feat. B-Real, Method Man) [B-Real] Loaded, dazed, confused.. I'm in the Esco' rollin the crisp weed You know that I'm never ever blazin the Bush weed You know you're on cloud nine fuckin with me duke Be sure that I'm the crisp man waitin to see Proof Some say I'm high on life and I don't need your herbs I'm gettin high every time that you speak your words Well I'm glad that means more for me son I hit the bong so hard they call me green lungs They say that I'm the buddah master, "Rock Superstar" You know the homie with the weed laced candy bar Now I'm blazin it non-stop, you feelin me fam? You see, everywhere I go it's like Amsterdam We blow the smoke in the air now you smellin my strain It's the O.G. bush just clouded your brain See I'm ready for fo'-twenty mo' honeys get dough for me All of them Mary, it's scary, they get you most stony [Chorus: B-Real, Method Man, Proof] [BR] Hittin the blunts and bongs [MM] Puffin those trees and leaves [Pr] Comin with E and Vic's [BR] You know it's on tonight, roll it and pass the light [BR] Sittin up top of the world [MM] Gettin on top of your girl [BR] Crack on those poles and pipes [Pr] You know it's on tonight [BR] Roll it and pass the light [Proof] You know your man's royal can be Ishmael {?} Wasn't even finished my drink and thinkin 'bout refills They got the dro, I'm fin' to roll off these E pills And I'm the (Proof), got on my (Method) so (Be-Real) A retired weed head that need bread for trickin Off on a mission to find bitches for sausage lickin Engulfed in liquids, Xena's and perkasets I jam like I don't know how to work the tec Nine times outta ten I'm high off the Henn' Never lie for a trend tryna die on a binge Biscuits is poppin, ain't no stoppin like Hendrix and Joplin 'til I find out where Biggie and 'Pac went Profit of coppin, most often is gobbled Stackin my chips high 'til they auction a Pablo Pills to swallow, momma don't cry I send you drugs Tryna get my mind stuck "In the Middle" like Monie Love - whaaaat? [Chorus] [Method Man] I semi-automatically spit flows at trash Anatomically equipped to rip shows in half If I speak a little fast you get whiplash Promoters better get the kid cash or get whipped ass Got some zig-zags and a dutch, let's get smashed My little zip bags got more riders than Six Flags And while y'all get gassed, I'm proceedin to get high Got weed like Mary J. is (All I'm Needin) to get by Tical motherfucker, run for cover when shit fly One hand is on the lye, the other hand on yo' bitch thigh How many wanna try, Mr. Meth and his clique? Yes That's kinda farfetched like me passin a piss test Okay, let's (Be-Real), here's the (Proof), we need cash flow Might catch me in the movies lightin up in the back row For sho', Killa Bee back, black we don't need that It's fo'-twenty ho, now where the fuck is yo' weed at? In fact.. [Chorus]
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