Herb Song

And I will strike down upon thee

With great vengeance and furious anger

And I will strike down upon thee

With great vengeance and furious anger

Head to the liquor store

To buy myself a Swisher Sweet

So I can get off my feet

Smoke a chop and take a seat

I'm beat

Someone needs to turn off the heat

I've got my eyes bloodshot

And redder than raw meat

Smoking chops in my room

Gotta keep it discreet

But that thick herbal smoke

Soaks into my bed sheet

Can't get ride of the smell

Clouds of smoke make it hot as hell

I'll smoke a blunt with you

If you promise not to tell

I've got cottonmouth

I could drink a whole lake

I don't eat red meat

But I could eat a whole steak

I'm high as fuck

And I've got the munchies like a bitch

See I'll let you hit my weed

If you promise not to snitch

They say stress makes your hair turn grey

That's why I smoke a fat blunt everyday

Of that super grade-A

I don't even have to pay

So bitch, light the chop

Then we can go downtown and recop

And I will strike down upon thee

With great vengeance and furious anger

And I will strike down upon thee

With great vengeance and furious anger

Take out my fat bag of weed

Break off a juicy bud

Cause that's all I really need

Break down the weed between my fingers

Feels real sticky

And the smell really lingers

Put that aside and break the Swisher down the middle

It's a tiny bit crispy so I'll lick it a little

Then I sprinkle the weed

From one end to another

Evenly spreading it out

Making sure to cover

Then I fold it, and tuck it

And roll it, shit, fuck it

Licking it and sealing it