I take sacks to the face whenever I can, don't need no crutch. I'm so keyed up 'till the joint be burning my hand. Next time I roll it in a hampa, to burn slow, so the ashes won't be burning up my hand, bro. 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, hell no, you better bring your own spliff, chief. What's up, don't babysit that better pass the joint, stop hitting cause you know you got asthma. Crack a 40 open homie and guzzle it, 'cause I know the weed in my system is getting lonely. 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 rolling up a fatty, but the Tanqueray straight had me.

— Luniz, “I Got 5 on It,” Operation Stackola, 1995.

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