Intro:
  (*guy toking up*)
  Fuckin buddha comin at'cha live
  Direct with the biggest fattest joint
  Comin in with indo flavours
  Fuckin buddha comin at'cha like this
  '95
  Verse 1: B Real
  It's Friday mornin where the weed at?
  Let me dip into my pocket for my fat weed sack
  Cos I wanna get high like a plane
  in the sky with the indo cloud in my brain
  Where the fuck are my zig zags and my lighters?
  so I can roll it and set it on fire
  Damn, I wish I had scissors cos the shit is so sticky
  that it's gettin on my fuckin fingers
  But it's smokeable, double tokeable
  I got the one-hit that, where the bombay shit that's tokeable
  I wanna do a joint venture
  Let me make sure there ain't no lump in the goddamn centre
  To get pregnated lookin joint, fuck it
  I can smoke it and I still get faded
  Chorus:
  Roll it up, light it up, smoke it up
  Inhale exhale
  *repeat x3*
  (I'm the freaker, the one freaks the funk
  *repeat*
  Verse 2: (Sen Dogg), B-Real
  (East Coast hittin that blunt), West Coast hittin that honeydip
  Might he want a joint then I want another hit
  Roll it up, (light it up), smoke it up
  I wanna stimulate my mind (so I toke it up)
  Can I get a hit? (Can I get a hooh!?)
  Gimme that fat bag of weed and the brew
  so I can get faded, elevated
  Smoke the joint down to a roach then I ate it
  I stand true to the guess guy ????
  (As I keep runnin from the chop-per)
  Gimme dat weed fool and ya zig-zags
  (Puto won't be holdin out on the big bag)
  Chorus
  (I'm the freaker, the one who freaks the funk)
  *repeat to fade)