"SO HIGH"
II TRU featuring Krayzie Bone and Layzie Bone

Krayzie Bone:
Roll another one.  Roll another one.  Roll another one.  Pass the blunt.
We be fiendin' for sticky weed, man . . .
Roll another one.  Roll another one.  Roll another one.  Pass the blunt, nigga.

I wanna get high, so high.

Brina:  
Nigga, first thing in morning 'fore I even get up, I gots to start off my day to a fat-ass blunt.  Step out the house on the get-high-creep, 'cause when I'm good and fucked-up, I'm a smash some peeps, and ain't nothin' like smokin' when you're a fool.  Find the next, get a hot spot, jump in it 'til ya pull, ridin' on the Clair, 'cause over there they can smoke it, and while I'm on the topic, here's a shot to all that know me:  

I wanna get high, so high.

Krayzie Bone:
Smoke, smoke, smoke, smoke up the whole thing, better believe it.  That's how we get weeded, so nigga, quit tryin' to budget your bud, 'cause it's a whole lot of thugs and niggas gettin' high, so don't go smoke a blunt, and you got a ounce in the ride.  Nigga, come off that reefer, 'cause I go broke everytime, indo slow blowin' my mind, still I proceed to hit that shit--it's wicked, sticky.  Smoke one with your thugsta, thugsta, and show me you can smoke with the thugs because I'm gonna get you high.  If you wanna get higher, come ride.  I will fly you.

Jhaz:
(...?...) puff, 'cause really it ain't (?), ain't wastin' no herb by lettin' it burn, let me hit that sticky.  Nothin' but the Moet in my cup, the sticky packed in the blunt.  My cap is too thick, so I'm constantly blazin' another blunt up.  We smokes all day.  When the sticky runs out, gotta roll to the hood for a stress sack.  Gotta get that blaze on still, gotta keep them wig-splittin' back.  Bump these hardest tracks, rappin' on the album of the century.  They the thugs that got it before these trues make moves and history, strictly on a mission to have a good time, freestyles and rhymes, smoke dimes, shots out to any true that gotta bag of this here, now.

Layzie Bone:
Oh, how I love my green leaves, nigga, givin' nothin' but respect, and I really ain't picky, I fuck with the stress, but I got four-fifty on the best weed.  Tonight, we gettin' higher than high, let's all get lifted.  P.O.D.'ded and tweeded, that indo needs to be seedless, so you know I'm fiendin', now am I wrong for smokin' this on 'til the dawn?  (?) in infamy done brought me back the bomb, and it's on.  So what I'm a do is I'm a twist it up and hit the sticky for you, smoke and choke with II Tru--they keepin' it platinum, makin' it happen for the Land, smokin' and movin' as we speak, tryin' to teach the world to be a thug in harmony.  Nigga, we keepin' the bomb-ass weed.  Blaze it up, nigga, what?  Mo Thugs is 'bout the music and bud, equal love.

Jhaz:
Can I blaze, man?  Pass me the Swisha, Optimo, Philly Blunt, or the House of Windsor, twist ya head back, snap, crack, inhale the smoke.  Then, pass it to the left, so the next man can toke.  Loc, homie, I'm cool on that water.  Just bring that sticky and this drink, do me fine, playa partner.  Miss bitch the shit, 'cause you can't smoke for free, and naw, smokin' weed don't make a sister horny.  Ignore the silly ones.  Keep on thuggin' for life.  Place the lighter to my blunt, 'cause it's time to get high.

Krayzie Bone:
Call up my family, let 'em know the reason I blow:  celebration, we done slapped the platinum back at you hoes.  So, you know it's on [it's on].  So, how my niggas had to show me, homie.  I'm fucked-up 'til the morning sunlight.  Lick and twist another Swisha soon as I get up, and then right after breakfast puff another.  Fucked-up.  Wonder if it's good for my health, 'cause ain't known a muthafucka that done O.D.'d on weed yet.  So, bring your blunts and some Hen and some herb.  My nigga, fuck what ya heard.  My Mo Thug niggas splurge. 

Brina:
Better learn to (?) mo, much love, got thousands from Cleveland to Cali, that's how we roll, follow 'em, once humongous blow up even more, when we crash the show.  We shuts 'em down underground, clown from town to town, bring a box of fifty House of Windsors, we about to blaze this pound of the real sticky, bum rush in my lungs with a cloud of smoke, puff 'em, 'bout ready to exhale before me mind blow.  E-Z Wider, Swisha, or Philly, don't matter really, 'cause it smoke the same.  You know the procedure:  two hits, then pass to the left when we blazin'.  All my trues who toke and roll in the Clair all day long.  We some representers, bumpin' on these here thug songs.

I wanna get high, so high.