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 aint 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 its not nature to mother
Generic like no other, man, fuck big brotha!

The Kottonmouth King klick. Are you blind or somethin?
Are you blind to the facts? 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
Property is theft, that's how we livin'

The bong tokin' alcoholics
Gettin bent every night is the thing we do
Wakin' up every day in the afternoon.
I crawl out the bed on the way to the shower
Gotta hurry up I got a date in an hour.
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 point
Call up the krew, hook it up. Lata.'
I hung up with X and gave my boys a holla.
D-loc picked up said 'What's up balla?'
Just droppin a dime and time 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 commin' through with some freaks from the Bay

Bong tokin alcoholics, the Kottonmouth tilt is what we call it,
The bong tokin alcoholics, step back I'm bout to crack
Legalize it!
The bong tokin alcoholics (repeat)

We drank up a fifth and sparked a bowl
Humble Gods on the radio bumpin' real low.
I reach into the back and pull out the 64,
I took it to the head like a mothafuckin' pro
Yo, that drink got me on tilt,
Ya better sit down cuz you about to spill
Now we approach up on the corner of the house party
I'm down, I'm told...?
Conversation with the krew, I thought you knew to pass the brew
Tasted kinda freaked, Saint your ass is through
Break out the beer bong man, I wanna get faded
Cuz drinkin' out the bottle is just so overrated,
We got the 22, we're fillin' up on Mickeys
Now what's up you drunk bitch? You spillin' on my Dickies
Well boost up the bass, go easy on the treble
And let 'em all know that we some psycho rebels
With our pants saggin', skates in our hand
With our pants saggin', skates in our hand
With our pants saggin', skates in our hand
Now we're rollin' 3 deep and we don't give a damn
Bong tokin alcoholics, the Kottonmouth tilt is what we call it
The bong tokin alcoholics, step back I'm bout to crack
Legalize it!
The bong tokin alcoholics (repeat)

I got the blunts and I got the beer
Daddy X hits skins in the rear view mirror
We walked up to the spot, the keg's our destination
Cuz runnin' local parties is a nightly occupation
I went to get a beer, felt a finger in my back
'Hey I like your shirt', yeah I see it is quite phat
But no time to mack cuz Saint's drunk as hell
He was standin' on the table and he started to yell,
'All the freaks up in the party, move around and shake your body
And if you're down with the boys of P-Town
Lemme see somebody get naughty.
Is the west coast in the house?
Then pick it up, pick it up, pick it up!'
Well get naughty they did and these girls start to strip,
Started freakin' on my shit and her boyfriend tried to trip
I said 'You talk shit, punk? Let's step outside'
He put his fists up, I put em on his eye
He got a left to the cheek, skateboard to the dome,
I busted out the (?) and took his girlie home

Bong tokin alcoholics, the Kottonmouth tilt is what we call it,
The bong tokin alcoholics, step back I'm bout to crack
Legalize it!
The bong tokin alcoholics (repeat)