[Verse 1: Underated]

I'm fucked up, I'm too high but I still want more

And it's fucked up we got too much good weed to ignore

So, we're closin' all the doors and the windows too

Oh, you ain't smokin'? Watch what sencond hand will do

It's the HotBox Anthem, it ain't a joke, put ya hands up

The room is filled with smoke, so many blunts you can't stand up

Humboldt bud shines in High Times magazines

And where I'm from we fillin up bags of weed for Halloween

Get in the truck, hit the blunt, get the Visine

Roll up the windows, were puff and tuff till our eyes bleed

Five Js a day the only way to get by

This ain't fake like the movies, Half-Baked or How High

Walk into the party, I ain't got no ice on

But I got the best weed you seen in

Your life son, one hit and you might fall

And the critics talkin' shit like this a gimmick, fuck all y'all

[Chorus: 1-Ton]

This ain't a club song with shakin' and dancin'

This ain't a love song with singin' and romancin'

This ain't a pop song about yo' favourite fashion

We're here to smoke a blunt, this is the HotBox Anthem

[Verse 2: Mr. Garth-Culti Vader]

Hop into my hotbox AKA my office, I got it

It's Mr. Garth-Culti-Vader growin them pounds of purple chronic

When I get up on it most people call me the reefer doctor

Livin in the tent with my twelve gauge watchin for helicopters

I broke you off somethin' kind of proper when I go get weighted

I'm watchin' out for crooked coppers in my golden state

I can't stop it Mary Jane is out on another day

I'll just wait till my harvesting then I'll be pulling some grapes

Not the ones from Napa but believe people be coming after this rapper

Because they know I'm a fuckin' disaster

When I bring the master kush straight from the plant stalks

I'd like to welcome everybody to this hotbox

Roll up the window smoking on a blunt

Roll up the window turn the music up to bump

[Verse 3: Absoloute on End]

You ready to burn? Yep, okay cool, let's blaze up every molecule

Well I got a few, will it make you feel like gravity is on top of you?

Fuck yeah! I got it, I'll hit it up in my spare time, I'll get ya high

I'll get that lighter, I got some fire, do it quick before expires

Showin' 'em I was born to roll like I was master ace

So, what 'cha talkin' about suburban for dubs

I'm talkin ace straight to the face

It's dank alumni, we smoking brass and weed

This smells like ass to me when you have to breathe

'Cause every time I go to inhale, it's like bad-breath

Pack that bowl, hit it homie, and pass that!

I'm doin dope fo' sho', smokin' trees, getting slow

Everything turns to I don't know, I don't wanna quit so I still roll

Man, I still blowin' my dough, let's go get high like was 'sup?

Only time I shut the fuck up is every time the windows go up

So, if you hotbox, hit it hard till it hurts

So, I can get to the other side like lesbians trying to convert

[Chorus: 1-Ton]

This is dank alumni, we make fascia aroma therapy

Smokin cultural taking out a teepee like a Cherokee

A belished desire to smoke

Clouds developing start taking shapes lookin like the holy ghost

Don't you break the tag cough a drop ash in the interior, the hot box

I swear you'll be short in breath that'll make you inferior, that's top notch

Marijuana songs that beats the bounce of girls of hop scotch

Rollin' blunts the size of redwood trees, joints the size of sasquatch

Inhale steam to let's your eyes sink

Whirling spells casted to reveal reflect the thoughts that I think

Positive progress towards liberation, no org local laws dedication the process

Blaze your favorite band without the guilty conscious

[Verse 4: 1-Ton]

I hang with Mary Jane and roll with ounces of bang

More it changes, stay the same, I got a hustlers game

You can catch me in my Chevy with my windows rollin' up

'Cause homie you got perfect time to finish rollin' a blunt

Still bumping gangsta rap, still screaming fuckin' cop

Look like my car is on fire when I'm cruising down the block

It's Smokey in the inside like the hot box anthem

My weed gets your brain like your smoking Charles Manson

The east they're smoking Phillies, the west we Rollin' Swishers

Some people packing bong hits, some people joint twisters

But me smokes it all got a PHD

That's a pothead degree, wrap pot, but best believe

I'll smoke a couple of P's, you're just a novice to me

When it comes to havin' fire, I'm as hot as can be

I'm smoking like a chief, notice me, I'm holding cheese

'Cause up in Humboldt county all are money grow on trees