fried

tank on E but i got that stank on me

gassed up in this bitch is you higher than me?

got a pack a swish a bowl and home made bongs

fast food fried nigga im dipped like a sunday cone

so light i look mixed youd think im a blasian

cause my eyes on chink like a nigga part asian

dank in my system blunts in my pocket

traveling to space on a mf rocket

rollin blowin back to back

facing blunts thats tall as shaq

so high up aint comin down

kush so loud it made a sound

 

 
This poem is about: 
Me
My community
My country
Our world

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