Punchbowl Punk

(Why with the help of a good kind friend, you can be turned on, make the scene, blow grass, smoke reefers, or pot, joints or mary janes. Those are just a few of the cool, groovy names for marijuana. And if grass doesn't make it for you baby, and especially if you need to be in, well you can always drop a cap of acid. And that's the real stuff. Very very cool, very very groovy.)

Albany brew. J23 what up. Deck out in Vegas, yo Lenny, what up. Bad Touch, Box, Sebrox, Complex what up man. Supercoven. Yeah

Yo
I just licked a set of stamps to lift me off
On this drug you couldn't piss me off
This shit is pure
The summer wind hit my face with sweat beads bigger than crystal balls
I am now the king of the crystal hall
I stay burnt like Tijuana laborers in paint
Just give me a gigantic bong hit til I fucking faint
I get up and write an album for my classmates
So I don't die from them stomach strains and hunger pains
Here comes the rain
Peace to Krypto for giving me beats hyper than shipments of bundled 'caine
I'm coming to London just to run a train
Smoke tons of haze, munch an eighth til I'm leaning on the wall like my uncle's cane
I'm not trying to self inflate
I'm sure everyone can make an album in a few days
Sell it, and barely get payed
But I'm not hearing shit so what's the fucking wait
Let's eat this birthday cake
I only offer death
I'm off the head like a strict Buddhist with honey frosted dreads
I'm bored to death, I'm doing more than mesc
That's why laying on the floor feels like a waterbed