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

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741