Tonart: Bb minor
Verse 1
Am
Em
Am
Creep on
in (on in, on in)
Em
Am
G
Whoa, see
G
high
Kinda broke this evening, y'all
Am
F
E
Am
So all I got's five, I got five
Verse 2
Am
Player, give me some brew and
Am
But I'm the type that like
Like Cypress Hill
Am
F
I steal doobies, spit
Am
loogies when I puff on it
I got some bucks on it,
G
but it ain't enough on it
F
Go get the S, the T, I- D- E- S
Nevertheless, I'm hella fresh
Rollin' joints like a cigarette (yeah)
G
So pass it 'cross the table
I'm gone,
G#m
E
beatin' my chest like King Kong
Am
F
It's on, wrap my lips around a 40
to get another stogie
Fools all kick in like
Shinobi (you don't know me)
F
No, he ain't my homie to begin with
Am
G
It's too many heads to be poppin'
F
to let my friend get bent
Unless you pull out the fat, crispy
Five dollar bill on the real,
before it's history
'Cause fools be having
them vacuum lungs
And if you let 'em hit it for free
G#m
Am
you hella dum- da- dum- dumb
I come to school with a Taylor
on my earlobe
Avoiding all the thick teasers,
skeezers, and weirdos
F
That be blowing off the land
Am
like, "Where the bomb at?"
Give me two bucks,
G
you take a puff and pass my bomb back
F
Suck up the dank like a Slurpee
The serious bomb will make a niggy go
delirious like Eddie Murphy
I got more Growing Pains than Maggie
'Cause homies nag me to take
G#m
E
the dank out of the baggie
Verse 3
(got it good)
Grab your 40, let's get keyed
Am
G
Messin' wit that Indo weed
F
I got five on it (got it good)
G
It's got me stuck and I'm tore back
E
Partna, let's go half on a sack
Am
I take sacks to the face whenever I can
Verse 4
Am
Don't need no crutch,
I'm so keyed up
'Til the joint be burnin' my hand
F
Next time I roll it in a hampa
Am
G
To burn slow so the ashes won't be burnin' up my hand,
Hoochies can hit but they
know they got to pitch in
Then I roll a joint that's longer than
your extension
'Cause I'll be damned
if you get high off me for free
E
Am
Hell no, you better bring your own spliff, chief
(got it good)
What's up? Don't babysit that,
better pass the joint
Stop hittin' 'cause
you know ya got asthma
Crack a 40 open, homie, and guzzle it
'Cause I know the weed in my sys
F
I gotta take a whiz test to my P.O.
I know I failed 'cause I done
smoked major weed, bro
And every time we with Chris, that fool
rollin' up a fatty (oowee)
G#
E
But the Tanqueray straight had me
Verse 5
(got it good)
Grab your 40, let's get keyed
F
Am
I got five on it
G
Messin' wit that Indo weed
F
I got five on it (got it good)
G
It's got me stuck and I'm tore back
F
I got five on it (got it good)
Partna, let's go half on a sack
E
Am
Verse 6
F
Ayy, make this right, man,
stop at the light, man
Am
My yester- night thing got
me hung off the night train
You fade, I fade,
so let's head to the East
Hit the stroll to 9- 0 so we can
G
F
roll big hashish
I wish I could fade the eighth,
but I'm low budget
Still rolling a two- door Cutlass,
same old bucket
G
F
Foggy windows, soggy Indo
I'm in the 'Land getting
G#m
smoked wit my kinfolk
Am
I been smoked, Yuk'll spray ya, lay
Verse 7
F
ya down (got it good)
Am
Up in the O- A- K the Town
Homies don't play around,
we down to blaze a pound
Then ease up, speed up
through the E- S- O
G
Drink the V- S- O- P up with a lemon
And everybody's rolled up,
I'm the roller
That's quick to fold a blunt out of a bunch
of sticky doja (ooh, wee)
Hold up, suck up my weed is all
you do (got it good)
Kick in feed, 'cause where I be's,
G#m
E
Am
we need s half like Umfufu I got five on it (got it good)
Grab your 40, let's get keyed
I got five on it
Em
Am
G
Messin' wit that Indo weed
F
I got five on it (got it good)
It's got me stuck and I'm tore back
I got five on it (got it good)
Outro 1
Partna, let's go half on a sack
E
Am
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