Текст: Eligh. Chronic.

[INTRO]
[Laughing]
(Smoke, smoke, smoke, smoke, smoke, smoke)
(Roll it up, roll it up, roll it up, roll it up, roll it up)
(Herb)

(Take a hit)
(California marijuana)
(Smoke a lot ??????)

[CHORUS x2: Eligh]
It's the chronic
Marijuana
I think I want a hit
Take a trip, a sip of bomb
Come along
It's just an herb
Mind's eye opened wide
Come inside
No need to hide

[Eligh]
It's just the chronic
Chronic moment
It's like the omen
Givin' birth inside your chest
Invest some time in knowing what the herb can do to a man's soul
When inhaled it takes the rest, he's impaled
It'll leave a person on top of a telephone pole with Hekyll and Jekyll
I know many men who have sold the secret medium my way
I light that bowl and lose control of tracks constructed by the conductor
Never stuck in a permanent high I float around my way
Wings and things help me to the next plateau I go
Way too intense with dense ideas I never change
I flow rivers of ancient, teleportations sent to the nation
Vis-a-vis via satellite, ear to ear from here to there
They feel the beat
Don't be shy
I'm really a quiet guy
Just try!
Look what it does for an introvert
I flirt with Mary Jane and burn her body for the feeling in a pipe
I won't complain

Marijuana
I think I need a hit
I take a trip, a sip of bomb
Come along
It's just an herb
Mind's eye opened wide
Come inside
No need to hide

[CHORUS]

It's just a
Crowded room full of people having tripped out conversations
No one's up to getting over the edge
That last hit dropped the eggs from my basket
Now I'm asking
"Dude, let's let's go outside real quick"
"Man, what's wrong with you, man?"
"Man let's just go outside real quick. Fuck it. I'm fucked up, dude."
"Aight. Aight" (Paranoid. Paranoid) (Go outside real quick. Go
outside real quick.)
"Let's go smoke."

Paranoid, pacing outside, waiting for a cigarette to bring down my high
Beware, boy, the one drunk punk
Hey I can ??? with endurance, when he talks he doesn't give a fuck
Swing low, I crouch down below
Should have left the last hit to the homie with the tolerance
Mary Jane's the bitch they pitch when slangin' bags for back support
Barely sane I hand them twenty, that'll be plenty
Relax and sport that sack in the back
When the show's in progress my heart's pressed against my chest
And the mic's in hand I bite my bottom lip and watch them trip
I'm ripped!
(What're they sayin'?)
(Pass the blunt to the left-hand side. Pass the blunt to the
left-hand side. Pass the blunt to the left-hand side.)
(Roll it in the ??? Roll it in the ??? Roll it in the ??? Blow it out
the ???) [x2]

Open mind, open lungs, open eyes, open hands
To hold the bowl, hold for the urn
Turn to ashes and urn
Earn your keep, or Mary won't have nowhere to sleep
There's something about Mary I can't seem to keep
Stick to the beats of the midnight hours
Smokin' a bowl before I go
In slo-mo creepin' around the bend
Not a snake in the grass so I fiend for green
Call me a fan with a hand on the pipe
Who like the smell, what the hell
Like's the felling, what you dealin'?

[Marijuana]
[CHORUS x2]

It's just the chronic
(Marijuana)
(Smoke some green)