Wake and bake, no debate
Toaster on ten, brain on late
Ash in the sink, syrup on plate
Blunt in my grits, fork in the crate
Dirty South kitchen, fumes in the hall
Cousin in the driveway, nod on the wall
Eyes low, high goal, answer no calls
Still dro bro talkin, barely can crawl
Wake and baked again, can't go wrong
Couch turn boat, we gone
Cheech and Chong in my bong
Wake and baked again, too strong
Stove on ten, no tong
Breakfast burning same song
Whole damn hood sing along
Wake and baked again, Cheech and Chong
Roll another dread,Snoopy with the tech talk
Dog in the yard,same name,never fetch chalk
Snoop dog on the hoodie,tailwag drip walk
Gin in the fridge, uice in the ziplock
Willie in the will, grass on the front lawn
Nelson on the playlist,tractor with the blunt drawn
Country grandma, pot pie, oven run dawn
She say “boy,grow up,” I say “I been grown, mawn”
Jimmy Hyndrex in my headphones, cords all frayed
Purple on the stove,strings in the ashtray laid
Guitar solo in my lungs,cough in D excuse me as I kiss the sky
Smoke bend time,whole room wave on three
Eyes redder than the devil’s Sunday suit,
Sippin’ syrup thick,dreams heavy as the loot,
Woke up with a Snoop in my lungs,no flute,
Nelson in the wind, that green-stringed root.
Blunt fat, call it Texas toast,
Smoke signals to the spirits,they doin’ the most,
Cheech in the kitchen, Chong’s the host,
Got a Jimi vibe, riffs hit like a ghost.
Morning haze thicker than Snoop's career,
Blunt rolled tight, got the smoke veneer.
Willie on the papers, green fields steer,
Hendrix riffs hummin', light the match, disappear.
Wake and bake, my alarm's the bong,
Clouds in the room, Cheech and Chong sing along.
Blues on the strings, trap house throng,
Southside grind where the grind belong.
Blunt breakfast, yeah, I’m chewin’ the air,
Smoke risin’ up, it’s everywhere.
Blunt breakfast, lungs full of song,
Every hit I take, I’m where I belong.
Ashes on the counter, dreams in the fog,
Time bends slow, mind joggin’ through the smog.
Nelson on the vinyl, that outlaw catalog,
Roll another up, call it Snoop's monologue.
Trap beats hummin', blues in the vein,
Southside dirty, Midwest sustain.
High notes chilling
Got that Midwest trap house funk, real grimy,
Couch full of crumbs, ashes like confetti shiny,
Puffin’ on that Hendrix,my brain’s a piney,
Strings of smoke swirl,visions so timely.
Lighter flicks a symphony, sparks my tune,
Sun creepin’ lazy like a Mississippi June,
Got a joint long enough to sweep the saloon,
Hotbox the world,make it my cocoon.
Moonshine and moon rocks,my stash eclectic,
Stoner symphonies, vibes electric,
Southern fried blues, the smoke’s magnetic,
Every puff poetic, every line prophetic.
Wake and baked again, can't go wrong
Couch turn boat,we gone
Cheech and Chong in my bong
Wake and baked again, too strong
Stove on ten, no tong
Breakfast burned, same song
Whole damn hood sing along
Wake and baked again, Cheech and Chong
Backwood bible, front-page psalm
Trap house blues, verse in my palm
Poet419
