Grow(feat. Smoke Dza - La

DZA, riiiiiiiiiiiiight, uh...
A n*a gotta keep it G though, sour hour then it's off to the Bistro
Hit the rugby store with Steve-O
Real quick, off a lick, s**t was easy as a free-throw
Cashin out, Im seein Ross and Casino, it's the kush-god comin' with some mean-old-bud
It's that Larry OG, my strain of the week
Smash it in the grinder, sprinkle it with kief
In the 206? The hottest n*a in the east, on the low though, all I need is a lil' more promo
Niggas lighting reggie around me is a no-no, get the boot just cause they don't know no better
Lil horse on my Polo sweater
I mastered this, it's classic shit
Uh, and Im vintage DZA, my low game finish niggas
I smoke to get high, cause life is so low
All I know is I ain't tryna do this on my own
So it's me and Mary Jane, both gettin' grown
When you see the packs, like attack of the clones
You don't want this hash-wax to the vapor-dome
Followed by a snap out of each and every bong
28 grams, top shelf, take em home
Open up the bag 'bout to get into my zone
Still they try and tell the people smoking w**d is wrong
But after smoking w**d is when I wrote my deepest songs
And on my worst days, made me feel like keepin' on
Chiefin Purple-Haze until my vertebraes were strong
Jar half full 'bout to burn it 'til its gone!
My recommendation just made my dealer broker, and this piece of paper just made me a legal smoker
WCW bud is even doper, it gon' make you see double or leave you in a coma
Because Seattle only competing with California, if you ain't on the West we out-grown ya
The aroma got me feelin at home, uh, there's nothin like the scent of m***a to a stoner...
Blue Dream and Northern Lights, puffin' purple with my people
Headband, Cinderalla 99, and Sour Diesel
Irish Gold, Blueberry, White Rhino's what I twist
With some Afghan-Gooey, Cat-Piss, and Cali Mist
Got that AK-47 mixed with some Bubblegum
GrandDaddy Purp, OG Kush, and Romulan
Straight chronic, hydroponic, always organic and medical
Liquid THC! (Pepe: Wait Wonka don't forget the edibles!)
Shit, we stay blowin' big Phillies like the Sixers' girls
My blunts like dumbbells, too much for your chick to curl
Strictly heavy-weights, inhaling through a gas-mask
So let the smoke flow from my Volcano® to a trash bag
Nothin but Swisher guts in my trash can, you pussies look but never touch
Call it a cat-scan
You can tell by the crowd and every trashed fan
We blowin' L's don't give a f**k where the ash land!
Makin love, music, and money, the modest hop around me
I meditate on Buddha just like Mahatama Ghandi
And bang nothin' but these beats cause the block behind me
Stick that s**t under the seat when the cops behind me
Though I'm the God of it
Rhymin is just a side of me, it will never entirely diary the entire me (...No!)
Try to tell me that s**t is dead, you know
Hip hop is alive, lyrics is back
The youth are the legs, you the arms, I am the cap
Head piece to the Voltron, stoned like Volcom
Used to lose his cool now his attitude is so calm
Other troubled souls playin' life like Socom
F**k beefin' I just came to get my smoke on
Younger days when I flung yay, apartment empty I told them B***s it's feng-shui
Eatin' off of this music, use it for lunch trays
Blowin' blunts in the sun 'til my tongues grey
Perhaps the most controversial aspect of Rastafarianism is the use of m***a as a central part in its philosphy. Officially named ***, it's colocally described by the rastas as "herb", and Bob Marley is said to smoke a pound a week. It's outlawed in Jamaica, and a convicted smoker can expect an 18-month jail sentence
The more you accept herb is the more you accept rastafari. Herb? Herb is a plant. I mean...Herb is so good for everything. Why these people who want to do so much good for everyone, who call themselves government and this and that, why them say you must not use the herb? You see, them say you must not use the herb because it makes you a rebel... Against what?