eligh - chronic lyrics
(smoke, smoke, smoke
smoke, smoke, smoke)
(roll it up, roll it up
roll it up, roll it up, roll it up)
(herb)
(take a hit)
(california marijuana)
(smoke a lot)
(chorus 2x):
it’s the chronic
marijuana
i think i want a hit
take a trip, a sip of bomb
come along
it’s just an herb
mind’s eye opened wide
come inside
no need to hide
(eligh)
it’s just the chronic
chronic moment
it’s like the omen
givin’ birth inside your chest
invest some time in knowing
what the herb can do to a man’s soul
when inhaled it takes the rest
he’s impaled
it’ll leave a person on top
of a telephone pole
with hekyll and jekyll
i know many men
who have sold
the secret medium my way
i light that bowl
and lose control of tracks
constructed by the conductor
never stuck in a permanent high
i float around my way
wings and things help me
to the next plateau i go
way too intense
with dense ideas i never change
i flow rivers of ancient
teleportations sent to the nation
vis-à-vis via satellite
ear to ear from here to there
they feel the beat
don’t be shy
i’m really a quiet guy
just try
look what it does
for an introvert
i flirt with mary jane
and burn her body
for the feeling in a pipe
i won’t complain
marijuana
i think i need a hit
i take a trip, a sip of bomb
come along
it’s just an herb
mind’s eye opened wide
come inside
no need to hide
(chorus)
it’s just a
crowded room full of people
having tripped out conversations
no one’s up to getting over the edge
that last hit dropped the eggs
from my basket
now i’m asking
“dude, let’s let’s go outside real quick”
“man, what’s wrong with you, man?”
“man let’s just go outside real quick
f-ck it
i’m f-cked up, dude.”
“aight, aight” (paranoid, paranoid)
(go outside real quick
go outside real quick)
“let’s go smoke”
paranoid, pacing outside
waiting for a cigarette
to bring down my high
beware, boy, the one drunk punk
hey i can with endurance
when he talks he doesn’t give a f-ck
swing low, i crouch down below
should have left the last hit
to the homie with the tolerance
mary jane’s the b-tch they pitch
when slangin’ bags for back support
barely sane i hand them twenty
that’ll be plenty
relax and sport that sack in the back
when the show’s in progress
my heart’s pressed against my chest
and the mic’s in hand
i bite my bottom lip
and watch them trip
i’m ripped
(what’re they sayin’?)
(p-ss the blunt to the left-hand side
p-ss the blunt to the left-hand side
p-ss the blunt to the left-hand side)
(roll it in the? roll it in the?
roll it in the? blow it out the?) (2x)
open mind, open lungs, open eyes, open hands
to hold the bowl, hold for the urn
turn to ashes and urn
earn your keep, or mary won’t have nowhere to sleep
there’s something about mary i can’t seem to keep
stick to the beats of the midnight hours
smokin’ a bowl before i go
in slo-mo creepin’ around the bend
not a snake in the gr-ss so i fiend for green
call me a fan with a hand on the pipe
who like the smell, what the h-ll
like’s the felling, what you dealin’?
(marijuana)
(chorus 2x)
it’s just the chronic
(marijuana)
(smoke some green)
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