Cypress Hill

Once again the powers of the herb open up the mind,
Seek deep inside, tell me what you find,
Come on...
[B-Real]:
Who be the ones steppin' in the room,
Everybody welcome to the temple of boom,
Back, let me see ya fat indo sack,
And get weeded, somebody, everybody need it,
Mari-Juana, Mari-Juana, do ya wanna,
Give me love when I put the flame on ya,
Homie I'm the one with the shotgun,in the closet,
Next to the fat bags full of chronic,
Puto, don't ya be steppin', with ya hands open,
Askin' me can I get a hit of what t'cha smokein',
I aint got no kind of love for a brother,
Who comes to the party, with no bud,
I be smokein' this, indo-blazin', funk buddah,
Everybody, wanted it, now they talk about the hooter,
Up until the summer of '91,
Wasn't no mutha fuckas talkin' 'bout smokein' blunts,
From the west coast to the east coast,
Everybody be braggin',
But , I'm the one who be puffin' most,
First it started with the nickel, then the dime,
Then the Twenty, spendin' up all my money,
Now, I roll with the nelco(?),
With the pound in the pad smokein' up the indo,
Just take a deep breath (Ahh),
Hit it then pass it to the left,