I Got 5 On It (Feat. Michael Marshall) Luniz & Michael Marshall

Creep on in
Ayy, see I'm ridin' high, whoa
Kinda broke this evening, y'all
So all I got's five, I got five

Player, give me some brew and I might just chill
But I'm the type that like to light another joint, like Cypress Hill
I steal doobies, spit loogies when I puff on it
I got some bucks on it, but it ain't enough on it
Go get the S, the T-I-D-E-S
Nevertheless, I'm hella fresh, rollin' joints like a cigarette
So pass it 'cross the table like ping pong
I'm gone, beatin' my chest like King Kong

It's on, wrap my lips around the .40
And when it comes to fetting another stogie
Fools all kick in like Shinobi
No, he ain't my homie to begin with
It's too many heads to be poppin' to let my friend hit it bit
Unless you pull out the fat, crispy
Five dollar bill, on the real, before it's history
'Cause fools be havin' them vacuum lungs
And if you let 'em hit it for free, you hella dumb-da-dumb-dumb

I come to school with the Taylor on my earlobe
Avoiding all the dick teasers, skeezers, and weirdos
That be blowing off the land, like, "Where the bomb at?"
Give me two bucks, you take a puff, and pass my bomb back
Suck up that dank like a Slurpee, the serious
Bomb will make a niggy go delirious, like Eddie Murphy
I got more growing pains than Maggie
'Cause homies nag me to take the dank out of the baggie

I got five on it (got it, good), grab your four, let's get keyed
I got five on it, messin' with that Indo weed
I got five on it (got it, good), it's got me stuck, and I'm tore back
I got five on it, partner, let's go half on a sack

I take sacks to the face
Whenever I can, don't need no crutch
I'm so keyed up 'til the joint be burning my hand
Next time I roll it in a hampa to burn slow
So the ashes won't be burning up my hand, bruh
Hoochies can hit, but they know they got to pitch in
Then I roll a joint that's longer than your extension
'Cause I'll be damned if you get high off me for free
Hell no, you better bring your own spliff, chief

What's up? Don't babysit that, better pass the joint
Stop hitting, 'cause you know you got asthma
Crack the 40 open, homie, and guzzle it
'Cause I know the weed in my system is gettin' lonely
I gotta take a whiz test to my P-O
I know I failed, 'cause I done smoked major weed, bro
And every time we with Chris, that fool rollin' up a fatty
But the Tanqueray straight had me

I got five on it (got it, good), grab your four, let's get keyed
I got five on it, messin' with that Indo weed
I got five on it (got it, good), it's got me stuck, and I'm tore back
I got five on it (got it, good), partner, let's go half on a sack

Ayy, make this right, mane, stop at the light, mane
My yester-night thing got me hung off the night train
You fade, I fade, so let's head to the East
Hit the stroll to nine-oh, so we can roll big hashish
I wish I could fade the eighth, but I'm low budget
Still rollin' a two-door cutlass, same old bucket
Foggy windows, soggy Indo
I'm in the 'land getting smoked with my kinfolk

I been smoked
Y'all get spray ya, lay you down up in the O-A-K the Town
Homies don't play around, we down to blaze a pound
Then ease up, speed up through the E-S-O
Drink the V-S-O-P up, with a lemon squeeze up
And everybody's rolled up, I'm the roller
That's quick to fold a blunt out of a bunch of sticky doja (woo-wee)
Hold up, suck up my weed is all you do
Kick in feed, 'cause where I bes we needs half, like Umfufu

I got five on it (got it, good), grab your four, let's get keyed
I got five on it, messin' with that Indo weed
I got five on it (got it, good), it's got me stuck, and I'm tore back
I got five on it (got it, good), partner, let's go half on a sack