I don’t light blunts, I detonate ‘em—click clack BOOM, Barrel spin like a DJ at your funeral tune, Backwoods fat like a body in the womb, With a Glock on my lap in a gaslit room. (BLAM BLAM BLAM) Took three dabs, then I saw God’s veins, White Runtz laced with blood in the Raw King James, Keep a Draco in the crib where the smoke got stains, And the clip curved mean like a methhead’s brain. (BRRRRRAAA!) Moonrock meltin’ on the tray like steel, Inhale pain while I cock that steel, Mix Gushers with a round for a high that kills, Then I ghostride slow in a Coupe De Ville. (pop pop…) ⸻ [1:00] Cherry Gelato, blunt stuffed like warhead science, Every pull from the rig like a Glock in silence, Bong water dark like a mob alliance, And my nine leave holes like a drill through Zion. (BOOM!) High off trauma, I bake in sin, MAC-10 by the stash with a devilish grin, Got Ice Cream Cake and an FN twin, And the blunt tip glow like original sin. That Lemon Haze cut like a switchblade sermon, One toke got me coughin’ like a throat insurgent, My pistol jerk back like a fiend that’s burnin’, And I roll up fate like a page I’m turnin’. (BLAT BLAT!) ⸻ [2:00] I exhale bullets, cough clips in rhythm, Burn Biscotti with a warhead vision, Got Glock dreams and a weed god’s wisdom, While the suppressor whisper like a crypt baptism. (ptt ptt ptt) Punch in the air, this ain’t strain—it’s rage, My dab rig look like a 12-gauge cage, Put wax on the chamber, then let that blaze, Now I’m spittin’ death lines off a loaded page. (BOOM!) Smoke so thick, it warp my name, Burn wax on a priest just to watch that flame, Every inhale got a clip and shame, While the nine do a dance through a .45 frame. (brrrat—POP! POP!) ⸻ [3:00] I ain’t smokin’, I’m summonin’ spirits, My bong got a scope and a murderous lyric, Mix hash with a shell and you barely hear it, Then I exhale pain like a ghost engineerin’. (BOOM—ch-chick—BOOM) Platinum Kush in a pipe with a barrel, Got 12 strains twistin’ like a spiral feral, Load clips in a verse with a flame so carnal, And I hit that rig like a rebel with a gavel. Two puffs deep and I forgot my name, Ruger sing lullabies soaked in pain, Put Keef on a slug, then I let it rain, Now your team look stiff like a wax museum. (pop pop—BRRRAAA—POP!) ⸻ [4:00] I inhale souls and I exhale brass, Got God in a jar and a shotgun stash, Put wax on the wound like a holy gash, Then I spark up a body like a blunt gone fast. Pineapple Express in a suicide vial, Load trauma in the chamber like a murder trial, Drop shell after shell on a weed-torch pile, Then I go ghost mode like a reaper’s smile. (BOOM—BOOM—click—BOOM) Runtz in the wind with a 9 on deck, Got a blunt full of PTSD and wreck, Every hit’s like a slug through a voice box check, And my Glock tap heads like a mic in a sec. (brrrt brrrt… BLAM!) ⸻ [5:00] Break open a nug like a bird from a coffin, Strain names raw like the priest been rotten, Shotgun talk like the verse forgotten, And I roast you in wax while the scope is locked in. Blunts ain’t blunts—they’re holy scripts, Rolled in rage, sealed tight with clips, I keep four mags by my rosin hits, And the smoke bless blood like apocalypse. (click-click—BANG!) One blunt, four straps, ten rounds, no peace, I hit that dab till the floor release, Cherry Pie on the tray with a touch of grease, While the muzzle flash dance like a pagan feast. (BLAT—BLAT—BLAT—BLAT!) ⸻ [6:00] White Widow by the zip in a skull-case hollow, Load .223s while I sip and wallow, Got trauma in the tip like a poisoned swallow, Then I light the past and my sins all follow. (BOOM… gun echo fades) I’m God when I smoke, Death when I spit, Every rhyme got teeth, every shell legit, Put Gorilla Glue in a cartridge hit, Then I aim for the moon and the sun gets split. Strain on strain, I baptize chrome, Muzzle in mouth, let the smoke dethrone, Now I’m rollin’ with a phantom in a graveyard tone, And the final toke hits like a cursed cyclone. ⸻ [7:00 - Outro] (gunfire fades behind deep coughing, blunt sparks) “Reload the soul… and pass the flame.” [7:00]
