Verse 1
I used to smoke up and listen to DJ Cold Cut/
now I’m twenty four years old and I still haven’t grown up/
I’ve got no luck like England when they play in the World Cup/
so what? I can blow smoke rings the size of donuts/
my life is ironic, I’ve become psychotic/
getting high on chronic makes me jump like hydraulics/
I’m fucked I need to get my head examined/
‘coz the weed’s destroyed my memories and it’s like they never happened/
back in the day I used to blaze on the tube/
now I’ve got police men try’na take all my food/
I don’t chuff ‘grettes I might smoke and save or a two’s/
I’ll always smoke weed thats why I’m dazed and confused/
I’m pissed off coz my town is a dead zone/
I’m the type to take you down by pounding your leg bones/
once I’ve done this I’m gonna pick up and get stoned/
head home and bop to Deftones on my head phones/

Chorus
My brain’s prehistoric I’m hooked on weed and chronic/
I’m constantly asking my people what are our minds achieving from it/
it’s uneconomic, I smoke until I need to vomit/
wasted all my evenings smoking weed and reading comics/
in my room playing Tekken and Soul Caliber/
or walking the city drunk while looking for beef like Noel Gallagher/
so if you’re smoking weed then put your hands up/
but in the end the shit will only leave you bankrupt/

Verse 2
There’s no debate I’ve never sold an eighth that’s over weight/
but the shit I smoke has always been above the going rate/
once you’re hooked smoking weed there’s no escape/
now I’ve gotta cultivate my plants so they can pro-create/
I be that bredder repping Haringey/
if I’ve got some doe I’ll pick up every Saturday/
I’m a drug addict strictly on some other shit/
I get money illegally the government can suck my dick/
there’s something taking over my brain like blood clots/
I’m always getting prang when I’m waiting at bus stops/
now corrupt cops are try’na take my mug shots/
so I never keep my draw inside the glove box/
it used to be all sweet like strawberry cakes/
now I’ve gotta quit this shit before its to late/
‘coz the police have got security tapes/
of me scoring an eighth outside the victoria stakes/

Chorus

Verse 3
I’m on a road to success but I’m close to my death/
I choke on each breath I feel it in my throat and my chest/
that’s the shit that makes me wanna smoke cigarettes/
to find a way to cope with stress and hope for the best/
smoke the whole stash till I’ve got no cash/
people cant reach me ‘coz I’m prang that my phones taped/
I’m the type to spend money that I don’t have/
smoke hash ‘til I’ve got no cash and fuck road gash/
I’ve started taking my habits to new extremes/
‘coz when I get angry I can turn savage like wolverine/
smoking zoots of green in front of a computer screen/
made my life a lucid dream and wasted money like a fruit machine/
but it’s a form of medication/
I need to fix up ‘coz I’m skinny like Kevin Bacon/
my album’s taken too long I’m sorry I kept you waiting/
but I wrote this for myself it ain’t a form of entertainment/

Chorus