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paul wall & termanology - smoke somethin lyrics

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[intro: termanology]
i get high, i get high, i get high (yes, sir)
ooh
i get high, i get high, i get high (smoke somethin’ with your boy)
ooh (‘ology, uh)

[verse 1: termanology]
smoking on trees with celebrities
solid gold cufflinks on my leather sleeves
bussin’ down weed in the brown leaf
red eyes, i’ma smoke ’til them sh+ts bleed
i’m just zoned out, staring at my diamonds
icy hot sh+t, move, i can change the climate
my gun hidden in designer
snap quick, i woke up and chose violence (i did)
i speak the truth when i’m rhyming
why you still walking around with closed eyelids? (still sleep)
fire kicks, my entirе whip
clean, watch me fire up a stick whilе these wheels spin (skrrt)
i done hooked up with some real tens
but they brains cooked, so we never linked again
so much ink leaked from this pen
i just smoke and i pray, lord, forgive me for my sins, yeah

[chorus: paul wall]
i get high, i get high, i get high
ooh
i get high, i get high, i get high (oh, i’m gettin’ high, this world’ll bring you down)
ooh (but i’ma get you high, mane, paul wall, baby)
[verse 2: paul wall]
i’m smoking something exclusive they ain’t got in the shop yet
you want that top tree? you gon’ pay tip+top check
stacking guap in the ‘lac , term’ in the drop ‘vette
carat cut diamonds, i just got a new top set
my top regret is tapping out smoking with snoop
but i blame it on the swishas, you can go ask goof
i was ready for round two with a astronaut suit
i had to get my weight up smoking out with devin the dude
i’m talking all day, every day like chimneys at the north pole
roll the concentrate in the middle, call it a pothole
i smoke the fronto solo and do it pr+nto
but don’t trip, it’s more on the console
i beat another case like bongos, but it was all god
let me shout out to my little bro saud and pretty todd (saud)
like a garage how i change out oil
this blunt’s mine, we ain’t smokin’ it plural so roll your own and get high

[chorus: sheek louch]
i get high, i get high, i get high (termanology, what up, god? what up, twin? yeah)
ooh (paul wall, baby, sheek louch, d+block, i got ’em, baby, yeah)

[verse 3: sheek louch]
fresh to death, dunny gotta be fly
i’m watching wack rappers blow up, i gotta be high
i don’t say nothing, but f+ck that, i want you to try
he ain’t stop you? that ain’t your family, he want you to die
must hate seeing you happy, they want you to cry
they don’t like when you tell the truth, they want you to lie
my mama gone, so i’m blowing smoke up to the sky
sh+t, i been knew the answers when ‘kiss was asking you, “why?”
i used to roll phillies, white owls and such
but that sh+t was a little strong, so i switched to the dutch
then i switched to the paper, cones is coming in clutch
you got good bud, i’m staying in touch (where you at?)
from new york to texas even out in the south
i ain’t passing before covid ’cause i ain’t trust your mouth
b+tches sucking d+ck and n+ggas eating ass
you nasty motherf+cker, you asking me to pass? i get high
[chorus: sheek louch]
i get high, i get high, i get high (feel that?)
ooh
i get high, i get high, i get high
ooh



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