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* set to the beat and words of BDP's "Beef" from the LP +Edutainment+ 

[Mr. Eon] 
Weed, weed, what a relief 
Where will my eighth a day habit cease? 
This an agricultural service announcement 
You can treat it, and you can douse it 
Let us begin now with the plant 
The way that it gets to your blunt in hand 
See the herb doesn't grow fast enough for man 
so for his lye, he makes a master plan 
He has bowls to make the weed grow quicker 
Through the hydroponic, the weed gets sicker 
Twenty-one different soils are dumped 
into the pot in one big lump 
So just before it dies, it dries 
in my back closet, with no moss and flies 
Off with the bud, we cut it, weigh it, and bag it 
and there it is for your local street addict 
Green and buddy, an ounce condensely packed 
Smoke it up and catch a heart attack 
Now come on now man let's be for real 
You are what you smoke is the way I feel but 
the weed and blunt administration'll 
have you thinkin lye is the perfect combination 
See heads be livin under fear and stress 
wonderin where they get the best 
Now beer and bless can become a part of you 
in your cells and dome, this is true 
So when the plant is grown, believe it 
Sell some to your man or smoke for free kid 
Roll it up, and begin seasonin 
Then you sit down, and begin seein shit 
In your body, Blackwoods, a Phillie, a Dutcher 
All the need and fiend for another 
See any smoke's addictive by any man 
Even the brownish rag it's all the same 
The alchemist'll have my ass, strung out 
on the indo and Northern Lights no doubt 
Think you got your weed habit on lock? 
Tell yourself you gonna try and stop 
smokin weed and you'll see you need the tree 
It's the number one drug on the street 
Not coke, cause that's a category of dope 
but the green leaf, that I smoke with wreath 
Now herb brings life and real bad breath 
Smoke all your shit and what you got left? 
Absolutely high, the sedative 
Watchin the movie Friday, with a spliff 
by Chris Tucker, that high motherfucker 
For anybody, Northern or Southerner 
See how many blunts we gotta pump up fatter? 
How many seeds gotta fall in the batter? 
How many chickens wanna smoke what you smoke? 
And how many heads ask for just one toke? 
Now they'll consume, the local dread could care less 
He'll sell you donkey shit and say it's FRESH 
for ninety-nine, you suckerrrrrrrrrs! 
High & Mighty, Mr. Eon, Mighty Mi 

Get your own shit, get your own shit man 
This my shit, I smoke my shit you smoke your shit 
Then we'll be fine

Видео-клип к песне Weed

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