Lyrics:

Gilla... House... Gillahouse

I smoke purp to the haze
Smoke haze to the cheese
Smoke cheese to the kush
Smoke kush to the sourdeezal
And I ain't feeling... anything
When I roll the bomb, alright alright, its Gillahouse

Rollin up the marijuana bud
Jack Herer, Uh in the blood
Redman, my codename Cheech
Hash burns all in my carseats
I was a Baby Boy' like Tyrese
Hittin the L before 'Rock the Bells', release
Mr. Green, yeah thats me, got the knockout bud, the muhammad a-leaf
Young as a Bob Marley when I speak
Po-po I hide the bud in the briefs
The highest of highs, your boys on fire
Smokin with me is like trying to 'Get Him to the Greek'
420, I light up the kief, I'm a Wiz at getting the Curren$y in the streets
Bill Clinton said he hit weed in his speech
I smoke sour everyday of the week nigga, PREACH

I smoke purp to the haze
Smoke haze to the cheese
Smoke cheese to the kush
Smoke kush to the sourdeezal
And I ain't feeling... anything
When I roll the bomb, alright alright, its gillahouse
(Redman & Ready Roc)
LET'S GO
Smoke with you.
The fire.
Come smoke with me
Let's go get higher
This booooomb, its a sensation
Now breathe it in, all in your system
YEAH

Blunt filled with kush, cheese, purple, and sour diesel
I call that smoking reefer
I keep weed in my system, and truth be told I get higher than Blake Griffin
And just imagine what I'm sipping, to drink this your gonna need a prescription
So it better be highgrade if you selling me
And never start no cypher without telling me
Cup empty, I need a refill
Something to chase this E pill
I hit my dealer at 3 AM
I wonder if he got hash still
Cause Gillahouse is what I'm reppin'
I stay high, get fly, I'm a Jetson
Now I'm on my high horse like a Western
And I never leave the house without protection
That's something that pastor can't preach
But that's something a jail could teach
To get high we put our money on weed, and we probably spend it all cause the sour ain't cheap
CHIEF

I smoke purp to the haze
Smoke haze to the cheese
Smoke cheese to the kush
Smoke kush to the sourdeezal
And I ain't feeling... anything
When I roll the bomb, alright alright, its Gillahouse