Smoke Season

[Hook]
It's smoke season, and everybody wanna have fun
So everybody grab a fat one, and get smo-o-oooked
Rappin’ Ron and Ant Diddley Dog
Bad-N-Fluenz bitch straight got it going on, yeah
For the smoke season

[Verse 1: Rappin’ Ron]
Well it’s smoke season, and I’m ‘bout to get lit
Getting juiced ‘cause I’m draped in a brand-new fit
Me and Diddley trying to pull every freak in town
A new summer and it’s already going down
So I puff on the joint, and hit some brew
And start thinking of some crazy old things to do
Like a barbecue, ‘cause I want to have a feast
And it’s one on the west and another one on the east
But if we go then you know we gotta go keyed
So let’s proceed, to go and get some more weed
And then one of my folks told me he got the bomb
Oh yeah, my partner Ant Banks and Father Dom
They twisting up a fat jay now we ‘bout to go
And a fat picnic is where we headed for
Pulled up all you smell was straight barbecue
And a young player like me straight starving, too
So we fired up the chops and smoked ‘em up
Ate some food then hollered out “Alright folks” and cut
Full and lit so we can’t even trip
Now we headed for the west so it’s back on the strip
Then I pop my tape in the deck, peep out all the hood rats
And they breaking they neck just so they can look back
I just lounge and watch all the snitches jock
I’m on way to the Westside picnic spot
Stop at the store get a order some gin
So we can get high and eat all over again
‘Cause for me to be sober in the summer it ain’t no reason
So burn another jay partner this smoke season

Chorus x2

[Verse 2: Ant Diddley Dog]

It’s summer time and I feel the town heating
Burning the pot I’m stuck broads straight freaking
Another smoke season a daily bomb fest
Every freak dressed for the Butterfly contest
That I’m a damn’ sure have to run to
As soon as Rappin’ Ron, Banks and Father Dom come through
No sooner said then done, here the ‘Maro come
Smashing up the street, zaps __ face off CD and high-mid tweaks
Them fifteens and them four eight-by-nines kick
Slumping bumping gangster summertime hits

Now we four deep, high I’m stuck, riding tough
I wish the po-po would try his luck
Thinking g’s slippin’ y’all trippin’
When them four barrels open another slip ‘bout to kick in
Burning rubber skirting past 83rd
Look like a block party, let’s pull over to the curb
Bounce out the ride, faded, fitted
Roll up a chop, blaze it and hit it
Surrounded by top-notch hood rats we can rush on
Get a quick fuck on and get a quick touch on
I see my folks everywhere so I got to give ‘em hugs
Burn a couple sacks show Ant Diddley Dog got some love
Now we all high peeping freaks that’s so thick
Sandals on, backs-out and them ’94 kicks
Back all out, it probably make your mother cry
Dark-skinned thick little freak working the butterfly
Baby come here let me tell you something flat out
[Woman’s voice:] Yes?
You got a back like ta-dow
We got the winter and the spring and the autumn and fall
But summertime is when Bad-N-Fluenz likes to ball
I love this time of year ‘cause it’s just so pleasin’
Now throw another fat peace sign to the smoke season

Chorus