Lyrics:

What, y'all thought I wasn't going to do a weed song?
Shit, nigga, you know me (you know me, you know me)
I like to get high (I like to get high)
So high
Bud-smokers only, reefer really makes you happy, don't it?
Bud-smokers only, reefer really makes you happy, don't it?
Bud-smokers only, reefer really makes you happy, don't it?
Bud-smokers only, reefer really makes you happy, don't it?
Bud-smokers only, reefer really makes you happy, don't it?
Bud-smokers only, reefer really makes you happy, don't it?
Bud-smokers only, reefer really makes you happy, don't it?
Bud-smokers only, reefer really makes you happy, don't it?
Me smoking Budda (Budda, Budda)
Come again, me smokin' Budda (Budda, Budda)
Me roll, and then me pass the hootah' to ya
Me feelin' that blunt, so don't let that Budda fool ya
Puff on that hootah' (hootah', hootah')
Come again, puff on this hootah' (hootah', hootah')
Sit back, relax, and let the Budda soothe ya
And when they ask, 'Who?'
You can tell them Krayzie schooled ya
Puff on the Budda, but first me gotta get with me friends
So wish you find a grub
'Cause I'm gonna spend all my ends on the Budda
Come again, will ya share me a bit of blunt, my friend?
If you don't wanna go half, fuck it
I'll put in the ends on the Budda, Budda
We roll and smoke and choke
And pass and toke and hand it back to ya
That Budda gonna keep ya
So high, so, now, how high can ya go? (So high)
So high, so, now, how high can ya go? (I want to get high)
So high, so, now, how high can ya go? (So high)
So high, so, now, how high can ya go? (I want to get high)
So high, so, now, how high can ya go? (So high)
So high, so, now, how high can ya go? (I want to get high)
As soon I arrive in L.A., gotta hit my connections
I've been here stressin' on this airplane six hours
Just thinkin' of crashin'
Now a sack's gonna be relaxin'
Smokin', chokin', rollin' blunts and, but we won't spend no money
Them sacks gotta be lovely, or we ain't fuckin' with y'all
Don't give me that, we don't want that
Don't give me that, want no stress sack
No, me don't want that, not in Californ-I-A
I want that bomb bud
It really makes me happy and it makes me sing
Every puff that I breathe
Potent herbs and leaves could ease the world
I done been to the other side, and I seen London and Paris
Niggas get fuckin' bloody high, feelin' the vibe
Mary Jane's worldwide, so why is it such a crime?
Hey, everybody should be gettin' high
So Mr. Weedman, you know we lookin' for the trees with no seeds, man
Yeah, yeah
We got the cheese, and we need to know
If you can show me the nigga with the weed, man
Where can I get it? (Can I get it?)