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Ben's Dad: If it grows in the ground, it's probably okay (Yeah) Ben Stone: I mean I guess it worked like you told me not (Yeah-yeah, yeah) to smoke pot all those years And then I found out that you were smoking pot that whole time Ben's Dad: Not the whole time, just (Yah) in the evenings and all day every weekend, not that much Twenty minutes left (Yeah-yeah) Ten joints rolled (Yeah-yeah) Smoke five right now (Smoke up) Other five at the show (Let's go) Through the highs and the lows (Let's do it) I be high, that's for sure (That's for sure) This weed ain't for show (Nah) It's all gettin' blown (Ayyy) Hit the set, set the tone (Set the tone) Elevaterz set the tone (Set the tone) We next up for the throne (We up next) They raw for the cones (Ay) Thank Berner for the cookie trays I use everyday when I'm at home And thank Dizzy Wright for makin' shit we smokin' right when we on the road (Ay) Gettin' O.G.s sent out to me in different time zones (Let's go) They said the hotel, details, we'll talk about it on the phone (Shut the fuck up) I'm not Cali grown (Nah) But I feel like Cali's own (Yeah) They all want them Cali clones (They do) I'm forever Cali stoned Letras de canciones[?] We got them flavors, put 'em in a paper We burnin' backwoods down to our fingers Flavors So many flavors Flavors So many flavors Time is changin', we ain't with them jokes They used to listen to 'em when he spoke All eyes on you but what you gon' do to be different with all these results? Dumpin' the bag, rappin' these circles around 'em but won't let me jump in and splash This should be against the law, I already know I'm a God, don't talk out'cho ass Take out the trash, this is rotation to us I ain't been patient enough I waited but this shit come natural to me I'm fallin' back from the meat and the dairy and cheese and the shit that we really don't need Call up your radio plugs and tell 'em about the Dizzy O.G Malonate 'em with my vitamin D How you think you gon' get higher than me? Back to back a site to see 'cause I ain't never seen it You sound like a psycho to me but I swear I'm one of them ones I really do this when twistin' up flavors of rasta without the Jamaican drums That just full of power blowin' ghost, you can barely puff it with your baby lungs We got them flavors, put 'em in a paper We burnin' backwoods (We burn some of the weed over here, man) down to our fingers (We know everybody, nigga) Flavors So many flavors (We done tried it all) Flavors (You know what it is) So many flavors Ooooh From Letras Mania