Lyrics:

My mission the commission of the dishin' out for facts Cuz when I'm dimin' my rhymin' never slacks, never lacks So get back to the basics and face it The American dream ain't what it seems With lies they've laced it Can't you taste it? See they baste it in an imitation butter We've ate it and realized it's not nature to mother Generic like no other Man fuck big brother The Kottonmouth King Klick Are you blind or somethin'? Are you blind to the fact You think that this system That this society sees any other color other than green? Well it's all slave driven' The illusion of ownership in America Properting is theft How we livin' ? The bong tokin' alcoholics The bong tokin' alcoholics The bong tokin' alcoholics The bong tokin' alcoholics Gettin' bent every night is the thing we do I get up every day in the afternoon I crawl out the bed on the way to the shower I gotta hurry up I got a date in a hour Well I call my boy X on the shower phone 'What's up, Saint? Man, I'm stoned alone By the way I got the freaks on wait Call up the krew, hook it up. Late.' I hung up with X and gave my boys a holla D-loc picked up said, 'What's up balla?' Just drop in a dime and tell him about this party There'll be a lotta beer and some naughty hotties I'll call Bobby let him know the plan And we'll bounce through in the nitrate van We'll take a road trip, 40 sip on the way Oh yeah X comin' through with some freaks from the Bay Bong tokin' alcoholics The Kottonmouth tilt is what we call it The bong tokin' alcoholics Step ba