[Verse 1: Lee Scott]

Well it’s the L double E Scott your clan trouble me not

I chill with an ounce of green grass tucked in each sock

Unimpressed unless you have something we want

Standards please don't drink methanol free antifreeze

A gang of thieves led by a hopeless no one

Thinking up a master plan that can only go wrong

The slickest in fools gold fronts

Act pallied hit spliffs that have me trippin for two whole months

Then flip and kill him like it meant nothing

And then explain to the feds taking his head was the best option

There's a million or more reasons why you’ll find I'm iller before we even consider health problems

A fuckin burden, cursing the sky drunk and slurrin’

Talkin’ like I’m badly dubbed in person

I drain your ale supply quicker than with nail and I still fail to die

The non tipping type fists are tight

Protect my copper jaw with my life

I casually stroll while its raining body parts

With the dying screams of my victims looped on the Philips Jogproof

I drink the bong juice when supplies are low

Just arriving as its time to go

Absent minded

Before I’ve even thought of flipping my lid you’ve caught a dip to the ribs

Received multiple buckaroo kicks to the grill

Fuck your crew, it’s all about peace and love except when it comes to you

For my listening pain I bump my headphones at full blast with the output jack jammed into my brain

I think I’m mindless, plus the moneys in the minus

Twisted, I find positivity in violence

Loot your green with a group of super fiends campaigning to give drugs equal opportunities

[Refrain: Lee Scott]

I don’t remember if I’m drunk now, bugged out

Fuck it, let him get his drugs out

I hit the trees til’ I look like I’m from Hong Kong

This is “Hits From The Bong” gone Wrong

I don’t remember if I’m drunk now, bugged out

Fuck it, let him get his drugs out

We the trees til’ we look like we’re from Hong Kong

This is “Hits From The Bong” gone Wrong

[Verse 2: Tame One]

Murk you with a verse, murder in the first

Premeditated hate in effect, disrespect I’ll break ya neck

Go out my way to slay you, and play you out

Play you like cut carpet with more bitches on me than (?)

(?) I spray paint streets with groovy letters

Addin’ holes to Coogi sweaters

Air condition your chest, separate bone from flesh with a pistol

Wind blowing through holes make skin whistle

Just because I hate y’all raps I keep hella baseball bats

For kneecaps of fake hard cats

That's what that is

Simply put, you gimps are shook

I put work on tracks like the biggest pimp in the book

Funky as some undone laundry with enough weed on me, make a nigga think a tree fell on me

And hip hop props, I got em’ from rock bottom to top

In Jerusalem, enemies doin’ them I make em’ stop

Fuck around and I shut shit down from the line like Jim Brown

Original Gangsta, Encyclopedia Brown

Cause’ on tracks I’ve lyrically brought back what rappers lack

Took half of that to take the top down like cadillacs

After that it’s a wrap like a burrito or Bobbito Garcia at Def Jams employment

I’m hot as a Redman performance on tour with Mr. Tical

I wet it down with the louis towel

Word is bond touch, you get your first born murked like juvenile

So who’s the child that can hold his own, god bless him

Microphone sessions, his goon squad gets him to clean the bong out Cough and torch up resin, I’m off a few seconds