Personal OG Freddie Gibbs

[Verse 1]
Smokin' fire, pourin' up
Hennessey and Red Bull in my cup
OG kush wrapped up in the wood
And I still smoke good in a '83 Cut
Still smoke kill in an old Deville
I keep the leather on my back, wood on the wheel
If a nigga don't blow smoke on chrome
Then I really don't feel how I'm supposed to feel
Because I feel like blowin' blunts back to back
With no shame, keep a pack and a sack to wrap
At 13, I was taking Swisher Sweets to the dome
With my nigga lil rone you can ask him that
My homeboy, Ganell, roll thin-ass blunts
So we can smoke at least 20 every day of the month
And keep at least 5 pounds of the hay in the trunk
And when he came from the Chi we was weighin' it up like
Uh
I got 16 zones of death and you can hit it at your own risk
When I travel I ain't lookin' for the local weed man
I be gone on the zone on my own shit
Got a stick or a seed in ya muhfuckin' weed
Then I guarantee you blowin' on the wrong shit
And they wonder how the kid stay blowed, eyes halfway closed
You ain't on what I'm on bitch
I'm lifted
Me and my girl just blew six blunts up in a blue 650
Charleston blue kush and blue Ken Griffey
She love the thug shit so boo get wit' me