Spose, Cam Groves - Brown Gold lyrics
[Spose, Cam Groves - Brown Gold lyrics]
I smoke weed every day and I
Know that shit sounds old
Dealer out of town got me
Rolling up the brown gold
In a backwood, I don't care about the rest
Preparing up a sesh to put some
Hair up on your chest
If you know me, I'm into blunts like Pokeys
It's roll three
Then the fourth with the roach weed
Smoke heavy, got my eyes turning red
Smoke five to the head
Make one rise from the dead
There's five to a pack so I
Gotta get my cash worth make 'em into eight
I'm a master with the patchwork
Chop 'em down
And I burn 'em to the last birch
On the internet watching Miley
Make her ass twerk
Making hit's been wrecking them steady
It's a second gen so I
Reckon get my pen ready
It's Cam Groves with Spose
Another roach to the bowl
Add 'em up and then we smoking some more
Mother fuckers
I definitely have a joint roach in
My basement, I can go check, i
Have one in my backpack too I
Think, it's old as fuck
But it might mostly be filter
But I'll grab it
Spizzy i smoke a couple ounces a tour (ayup)
My wife calls that a problem
But we haven't divorced
Sometimes there's not enough to
Keep smoking right
So I scrape the resin out of
Shards in my broken pipes
Paper clips when I forget to
Cop the dank at times
Emergency surgically herbally I'm
Dr frankenstein candle lit up in the
Basement that's the ambiance
Unroll then re-rolling roaches
Into zombie blunts
I got no limit what we'll patch up
Brown gold, look like Foxy Cleopatra
We enter the sarcophagus and open the tomb
Mummification impatient
Get to smoke in the room
Memories of past sessions all
Float into plumes
Put the shovel to the ashtray
The body's exhumed
Man when life megabytes like a download
Find us in a cemetery digging
Up that brown gold
Know that shit sounds old
Dealer out of town got me
Rolling up the brown gold
In a backwood, I don't care about the rest
Preparing up a sesh to put some
Hair up on your chest
If you know me, I'm into blunts like Pokeys
It's roll three
Then the fourth with the roach weed
Smoke heavy, got my eyes turning red
Smoke five to the head
Make one rise from the dead
There's five to a pack so I
Gotta get my cash worth make 'em into eight
I'm a master with the patchwork
Chop 'em down
And I burn 'em to the last birch
On the internet watching Miley
Make her ass twerk
Making hit's been wrecking them steady
It's a second gen so I
Reckon get my pen ready
It's Cam Groves with Spose
Another roach to the bowl
Add 'em up and then we smoking some more
Mother fuckers
I definitely have a joint roach in
My basement, I can go check, i
Have one in my backpack too I
Think, it's old as fuck
But it might mostly be filter
But I'll grab it
Spizzy i smoke a couple ounces a tour (ayup)
My wife calls that a problem
But we haven't divorced
Sometimes there's not enough to
Keep smoking right
So I scrape the resin out of
Shards in my broken pipes
Paper clips when I forget to
Cop the dank at times
Emergency surgically herbally I'm
Dr frankenstein candle lit up in the
Basement that's the ambiance
Unroll then re-rolling roaches
Into zombie blunts
I got no limit what we'll patch up
Brown gold, look like Foxy Cleopatra
We enter the sarcophagus and open the tomb
Mummification impatient
Get to smoke in the room
Memories of past sessions all
Float into plumes
Put the shovel to the ashtray
The body's exhumed
Man when life megabytes like a download
Find us in a cemetery digging
Up that brown gold