(*guy toking up*)
 Fuckin buddha comin at'cha live
 Direct with the biggest  fattest joint
 Comin in with indo flavours
 Fuckin buddha comin at'cha like this
 '95
 Verse 1: B Real
 It's Friday mornin  where the weed at?
 Let me dip into my pocket for my fat weed sack
 Cos I wanna get high like a plane
 in the sky with the indo cloud in my brain
 Where the fuck are my zig zags and my lighters?
 so I can roll it and set it on fire
 Damn, I wish I had scissors cos the shit is so sticky
 that it's gettin on my fuckin fingers
 But it's smokeable, double tokeable
 I got the one-hit that, where the bombay shit that's tokeable
 I wanna do a joint venture
 Let me make sure there ain't no lump in the goddamn centre
 To get pregnated lookin joint, fuck it
 I can smoke it and I still get faded
 Chorus:
 Roll it up, light it up, smoke it up
 Inhale exhale
 *repeat x3*
 (I'm the freaker, the one freaks the funk
 *repeat*
 Verse 2: (Sen Dogg), B-Real
 (East Coast hittin that blunt), West Coast hittin that honeydip
 Might he want a joint then I want another hit
 Roll it up, (light it up), smoke it up
 I wanna stimulate my mind (so I toke it up)
 Can I get a hit? (Can I get a hooh!?)
 Gimme that fat bag of weed and the brew
 so I can get faded, elevated
 Smoke the joint down to a roach then I ate it
 I stand true to the guess guy ????
 (As I keep runnin from the chop-per)
 Gimme dat weed fool and ya zig-zags
 (Puto won't be holdin out on the big bag)
 Chorus
 (I'm the freaker, the one who freaks the funk)
 *repeat to fade