La Coka Nostra, Sick Jacken - High Times lyrics

Do you want to get high? (yeah)
Does everybody want to get high? (yeah)

Yo, I'm like butter in the bottle
Easy spraying at those
Dressed in black like a funeral
Praying to ghosts
I’m like a thousand Newport’s out
The mouth of the trife farragut Too Short
Billy fuck your mouth with a rifle
Yeah fuck your face with a screwdriver
Show me a goon liver
A miracle I ain’t in jail doing a two-fiver
I speak electricity
My words are loose diamonds
String ‘em together like Gucci
Links and used medallions
I take you on a journey
Sometimes I feel like fuck the world
Y’all don’t deserve me
Fuck you and your attorney
I drive a hard bargain
Into the fire like Don Dokken
Fuck outta here, matter of fact
Make it a Lȧȧz Rockit
The chopper read a rat, chief popper
Desert Eagle clap
My words will cause the street
Underneath your feet to crack
Resurrect John Lennon, bring The Beatles back
Resurrect Bob Marley, bring that reefer back

Load the auto dab with Waxey Gordon
I get so high
I feel like I’m passing Jordan every
Time I pack a bowl and
Grow my own weed on lands stolen
Cali’s saw with the hashy oil
Got my lung mad swollen
Smoke out of an apple with The Grateful Dead
Just to sample cause I wanna tap
It through make some bread
(yeah?) I get my weed from the street instead
Cause I don’t believe with a scrip
You deceive the feds
What the fuck do I know, I’m a marijuano
Used to doing mano mano in
The hood for my dough

La Coka Nostra
Dos like through? like the mob
I’m a scholar and a gentleman
Cheech & Chong veteran
Complicated hood shit
Like Big Sleep's lettering
Waste italic cause I chase the dragon
Just imagine that the dabbin’ and
The whiskey lace the

I look around and see a bunch
Of younger me's with chips
On their shoulders, smoking weed
No seeds or sticks
Graduated to the yayo for the freezing drips
Stashing burners in their fucking
Dungarees and whips
Still awake at 7AM and you need your fix
You was booked on a flight
But it leaves at six
You were cooked for the night
With an easy bitch
That's the lifestyle of the
Young and greasy rich and sleazy
It's all easy till the IRS sees me
I ain't filed in years and now
They starting to seize me
All the debt is in fees enough
To make you get queasy
Can't leave rap alone, I ain't Wheezy
Resurrect old Slaine, bring the evil back
Resurrect John Lennon, bring The Beatles back
Resurrect Cochran, I need a beat to rap
Trying find my way like it's
Hay in a needle stack