This is about bronies. They communicate by stomping.
Creep on in (on in, on in)
Whoa, 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 (yeah)
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 a 40
And when it comes to get another stogie
Fools all kick in like Shinobi (you don't know me)
No, he ain't my homie to begin with
It's too many heads to be poppin' to let my friend get bent
Unless you pull out the fat, crispy
Five dollar bill on the real, before it's history
'Cause fools be having them vacuum lungs
And if you let 'em hit it for free you hella dum-da-dum-dumb
I come to school with a Taylor on my earlobe
Avoiding all the thick 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 the 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 40, let's get keyed
I got five on it
Messin' wit 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
Partna, 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 burnin' my hand
Next time I roll it in a hampa
To burn slow so the ashes won't be burnin' 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 (got it good)
What's up? Don't babysit that, better pass the joint
Stop hittin' 'cause you know ya got asthma
Crack a 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 (oowee)
But the Tanqueray straight had me
I got five on it (got it good)
Grab your 40, let's get keyed
I got five on it
Messin' wit 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)
Partna, let's go half on a sack
Ayy, make this right, man, stop at the light, man
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 9-0 so we can roll big hashish
I wish I could fade the eighth, but I'm low budget
Still rolling a two-door Cutlass, same old bucket
Foggy windows, soggy Indo
I'm in the 'Land getting smoked wit my kinfolk
I been smoked, Yuk'll spray ya, lay ya down (got it good)
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 (ooh, wee)
Hold up, suck up my weed is all you do (got it good)
Kick in feed, 'cause where I be's, we needs half like Umfufu
I got five on it (got it good)
Grab your 40, let's get keyed
I got five on it
Messin' wit 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)
Partna, let's go half on a sack
Whoa, 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 (yeah)
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 a 40
And when it comes to get another stogie
Fools all kick in like Shinobi (you don't know me)
No, he ain't my homie to begin with
It's too many heads to be poppin' to let my friend get bent
Unless you pull out the fat, crispy
Five dollar bill on the real, before it's history
'Cause fools be having them vacuum lungs
And if you let 'em hit it for free you hella dum-da-dum-dumb
I come to school with a Taylor on my earlobe
Avoiding all the thick 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 the 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 40, let's get keyed
I got five on it
Messin' wit 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
Partna, 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 burnin' my hand
Next time I roll it in a hampa
To burn slow so the ashes won't be burnin' 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 (got it good)
What's up? Don't babysit that, better pass the joint
Stop hittin' 'cause you know ya got asthma
Crack a 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 (oowee)
But the Tanqueray straight had me
I got five on it (got it good)
Grab your 40, let's get keyed
I got five on it
Messin' wit 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)
Partna, let's go half on a sack
Ayy, make this right, man, stop at the light, man
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 9-0 so we can roll big hashish
I wish I could fade the eighth, but I'm low budget
Still rolling a two-door Cutlass, same old bucket
Foggy windows, soggy Indo
I'm in the 'Land getting smoked wit my kinfolk
I been smoked, Yuk'll spray ya, lay ya down (got it good)
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 (ooh, wee)
Hold up, suck up my weed is all you do (got it good)
Kick in feed, 'cause where I be's, we needs half like Umfufu
I got five on it (got it good)
Grab your 40, let's get keyed
I got five on it
Messin' wit 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)
Partna, let's go half on a sack
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@[Diderik:33655] "Your a holiday!" Was a popular term used in the 50s/60s to compliment someone on their all around. For example, not only are they beautiful, but they are fun and kind too ... just an all around "holiday".
I think your first comment is closer to being accurate. The singer/song writers state "Millions of eyes can see, yet why am i so blind!? When the someone else is me, its unkind its unkind". I believe hes referring to the girl toying with him and using him. He wants something deeper with her, thats why he allows himself to be as a puppet (even though for her fun and games) as long as it makes her happy. But he knows deep down that she doesnt really want to be serious with him and thats what makes him.
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Great version of a great song,
Page
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Plastic Bag
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“Plastic Bag” is a song about searching for an escape from personal problems and hoping to find it in the lively atmosphere of a Saturday night party. Ed Sheeran tells the story of his friend and the myriad of troubles he is going through. Unable to find any solutions, this friend seeks a last resort in a party and the vanity that comes with it.
“I overthink and have trouble sleepin’ / All purpose gone and don’t have a reason / And there’s no doctor to stop this bleedin’ / So I left home and jumped in the deep end,” Ed Sheeran sings in verse one. He continues by adding that this person is feeling the weight of having disappointed his father and doesn’t have any friends to rely on in this difficult moment. In the second verse, Ed sings about the role of grief in his friend’s plight and his dwindling faith in prayer. “Saturday night is givin’ me a reason to rely on the strobe lights / The lifeline of a promise in a shot glass, and I’ll take that / If you’re givin’ out love from a plastic bag,” Ed sings on the chorus, as his friend turns to new vices in hopes of feeling better.
mannn....this is the song that i got high to the first time i ever smoked. brings back sum kick ass memories of my friends brothers room n takin hits from the bong. good times.