Hotbox Anthem

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Underated] I'm fucked up, I'm too high but I still want more And it's fucked up we got too much good weed to ignore So, we're closin' all the doors and the windows too Oh, you ain't smokin'? Watch what sencond hand will do It's the HotBox Anthem, it ain't a joke, put ya hands up The room is filled with smoke, so many blunts you can't stand up Humboldt bud shines in High Times magazines And where I'm from we fillin up bags of weed for Halloween Get in the truck, hit the blunt, get the Visine Roll up the windows, were puff and tuff till our eyes bleed Five Js a day the only way to get by This ain't fake like the movies, Half-Baked or How High Walk into the party, I ain't got no ice on But I got the best weed you seen in Your life son, one hit and you might fall And the critics talkin' shit like this a gimmick, fuck all y'all [Chorus: 1-Ton] This ain't a club song with shakin' and dancin' This ain't a love song with singin' and romancin' This ain't a pop song about yo' favourite fashion We're here to smoke a blunt, this is the HotBox Anthem [Verse 2: Mr. Garth-Culti Vader] Hop into my hotbox AKA my office, I got it It's Mr. Garth-Culti-Vader growin them pounds of purple chronic When I get up on it most people call me the reefer doctor Livin in the tent with my twelve gauge watchin for helicopters I broke you off somethin' kind of proper when I go get weighted I'm watchin' out for crooked coppers in my golden state I can't stop it Mary Jane is out on another day I'll just wait till my harvesting then I'll be pulling some grapes Not the ones from Napa but believe people be coming after this rapper Because they know I'm a fuckin' disaster When I bring the master kush straight from the plant stalks I'd like to welcome everybody to this hotbox [Verse 3: Absoloute on End] Roll up the window smoking on a blunt Roll up the window turn the music up to bump You ready to burn? Yep, okay cool, let's blaze up every molecule Well I got a few, will it make you feel like gravity is on top of you? Fuck yeah! I got it, I'll hit it up in my spare time, I'll get ya high I'll get that lighter, I got some fire, do it quick before expires Showin' 'em I was born to roll like I was master ace So, what 'cha talkin' about suburban for dubs I'm talkin ace straight to the face It's dank alumni, we smoking brass and weed This smells like ass to me when you have to breathe 'Cause every time I go to inhale, it's like bad-breath Pack that bowl, hit it homie, and pass that! I'm doin dope fo' sho', smokin' trees, getting slow Everything turns to I don't know, I don't wanna quit so I still roll Man, I still blowin' my dough, let's go get high like was 'sup? Only time I shut the fuck up is every time the windows go up So, if you hotbox, hit it hard till it hurts So, I can get to the other side like lesbians trying to convert [Chorus: 1-Ton] This is dank alumni, we make fascia aroma therapy Smokin cultural taking out a teepee like a Cherokee A belished desire to smoke Clouds developing start taking shapes lookin like the holy ghost Don't you break the tag cough a drop ash in the interior, the hot box I swear you'll be short in breath that'll make you inferior, that's top notch Marijuana songs that beats the bounce of girls of hop scotch Rollin' blunts the size of redwood trees, joints the size of sasquatch Inhale steam to let's your eyes sink Whirling spells casted to reveal reflect the thoughts that I think Positive progress towards liberation, no org local laws dedication the process Blaze your favorite band without the guilty conscious [Verse 4: 1-Ton] I roll ounces of bang, it changes Stay the same, I got a hustlers game You can catch me in my Chevy with my windows rollin' up 'Cause homie you got perfect time to finish rollin' a blunt Still bumping gangsta rap, still screaming fuckin' cop Look like my car is on fire when I'm cruising down the block It's Smokey in the inside like the hot box anthem My weed gets your brain like your smoking Charles Manson The east they're smoking Phillies, the west we Rollin Swishers Some people packing bong hits, some people joint twisters But me smokes it all got a PHD That's a pothead degree, wrap pot, but best believe I'll smoke a couple of P's, you're just a novice to me When it comes to havin' fire, I'm as hot as can be I'm smoking like a chief, notice me, I'm holding cheese 'Cause up in Humboldt county all are money grow on trees