lirik lagu lil rob - get high
(lil rob in background)
[fingazz] get, high
[lil rob] get, high
i mean, i think i got this man, you know
i know it’s kind of high over there, just
[fingazz] get, high
[lil rob] get, high
roll them zig zags
get, high
homie, fill them bags up
get, high
let’s, get, so
high
[lil rob]
(verse 1)
i took a little bit of yerba and i grinded it up
put it in the cup, with the volcano, then i watch it erupt
blow up
then i took a hit of the bag
it’s comin’ long ways since them old schoolers pack zig zags
que no?
simon, holmes, i take to the sky
i stay high and supply
why would you be surprised
and you should just
by the f-ckin’ look in my eyes
then my mind vaporize, i’m hangin’ out with the guys
i’m gettin’ high
homie hooked it up with a lot of pot
not the kind with the stick and seeds, but the kind that i like a lot
i’m
high
and i don’t wanna come down
i stay high
from sundown til sundown, that’s the rundown
i’m high, and i can’t stop
i don’t wanna stop
special effects, love the effects that marijuana got
i’m
high
i take it straight to the brain, ey
shouts out to pete and bash for gettin’ me high the same high
chorus: lil rob {-slowed down-}
hey, put them rags up (get, high)
roll them zig zags up (get, high)
homie, fill them bags up (get, high)
let’s, get, so, high
hey, keep them rags up (get, high)
light them zig zags up (get, high)
we fill them bags up (get, high)
let’s, get, so, high
(verse 2)
in fact, i think i’m addicted, ey
sittin’ back at the pad with a pound, just getting twisted, ey
writin’ rhymes to a sound that i found, you see my vision, ey
when you done with the bag, make sure you p-ss it back this way
i don’t care if it’s the weekend or a buisness day
it don’t matter anyway, f-ck it, i get some ins today
as how low like my bandana is
my eyes are low my caro
everytime that i’m draggin’ it
i’m a jura mag-a-net
in a damfla that’s emaculate
with marijuana smoke coming out the back of it
lookin’ like the f-ckin’ rags on fire
drivin’ with a suspended license and my tag’s expired
watchin’ out for the chota, cause they can’t have my mota
my yesca, my marijuana, my yerba buena
i love to fly, in fact, i’m one with the sky
the type of guy that loves to just get
repeat chorus
(verse 3)
i’m the vato that puts the rag on the caraso
to keep the smoke in
the best, that i can
why the mist in again?
get lost in the smoke
don’t care where i’m at
i get lost, when i smoke
hit the bags and put the sh-t in reverse
i’m pretty bad now, and it’s just gonna worse
spread my wings, i’m always ready to fly
i got some weed, come with me and get
repeat chorus
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