lirik lagu jeezy - higher learning
[chours: mitch-lle’l]
i need some weed man
somebody call the weed man
i’m tryna get high…
i’m tryna get high
[intro: young jeezy]
yeah, somebody call the weed man
westside brewer, lil sam, 103 n-gga
ha, 15 what up, n-gga? yeah, let’s go
yeah, yeah, yeah, wh-ssup
i tryna get high, it’s higher learning n-gga
let’s go, let’s go, look…
[verse 1: young jeezy]
woke up in the ritz carlton, d-mn sun in my face (face)
racks on my jeans, gun still on my waist (snow)
and i ain’t leaving sh-t in my cup, that’s such a waste (yeah)
you know i’m sipping on that straight like that “oh, what a a taste!” (haha)
tip the valet 100 dollars to stunt (stunt)
pulled up in that mean machine, leave it up front (arr-arr)
this p-ssed out thing beside me, i barely know her (know her)
but you can just imagine the sh-t i’m ’bout to show her (yeah)
snow way, them streets too cold, them b-tches polar (polar)
expectations out of this world, i’m thinking solar (yeah)
that’s why i do it for that kalamazoo and then nola (nola)
cause that’s what happens when you learn to mix it with that soda (yeah)
[chorus: mitch-lle’l]
i need some weed man
somebody call the weed man
i’m tryna get high…
i’m tryna get high
[verse 2: snoop dogg]
i wake up just to bake up, get my cake up and rise up
motivating factors that i’m liver than most
i boast and bang, pour some pain in that thing
put some purple rain on your brain, unravel the flame
maintain my fame, get you new pictures just to put in your frame
we in the hood blowing kush with the game
foot in the cane, walking just like i’m an indian chief
with no beef, real brief, with a wreath – you may think it’s a leaf
with the residue stuck deep down in your t–th
when you smoking with the dogg, sh-t, you might not eat!
it’s ok, cause we lay, in the cut, on the hill, on the dip
with a fit, on crip, don’t trip, i need some
[chorus: mitch-lle’l]
i need some weed man
somebody call the weed man
i’m tryna get high..
i’m tryna get high
[verse 3: devin the dude]
the coffee that i had, it was good to the last drop
but now i’m fresh out and you know it don’t… stop
so please man, somebody call the weed man
i’d call mine, but he’s been low on herb even
i’m fiending, daydreaming of the times when i had
much mota, many different kinds in the bag
i fell hard for the funk, i can’t fake the love
i smoke dro, good reggie, smoke shake to nugs
if it’s weed, then i’m with it; you got a paper? then twist it?
got a bowl? fill it? got a blunt? let me split it down the gut
sheeit, but sh-t for what?
cause ain’t no green on the scene, man, what the f-ck?
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