It's been said that you smoked in the White House

Do you have footage?

Did you smoke in the White House?

Do you have footage?

I don't have footage

Back with another track that's oh so sick

Higher than a giraffe on a pogo stick

Twist up so many splits, man, this ain't no joke

So they call me a "Roll-Model" but you don't want This smoke

Fuck all the haters, bro, who fucking needs them?

I know my rhyme's are dope, cause I wrote them With my weed pen

Talking gas, baby, burn every time I put a hit out

The roof's on fire, get the wife and kids out!

I'm high off the chronic, my verses roll tight

Blunt with the bars, you hear every line ignite

Every bar I exhale makes the crowd get hazy

And you can't see me cause my delivery's crazy

Baked nice when I'm writing, cooking up these Classics

Smoking on the scene, you know my pen game's Jurassic

Stay lit like the tip, yeah, I'm fire the booth

Take a hit, spit a bit, then switch to Super Boof

Roll up on the track like a joint on a mission

Got some green in my pocket, talking trees and Ambition

I'm smokin it now, say it loud, I know you can hear Me Puffin on success, I can see the vision clearly

Took a toke, then I spoke, now the bar's got a flame

I'm Kushin all the limits, now I got OG on the brain

I blow Haze out the window like I'm ducking the Feds

Like White Widow, my flow stays stuck in your head

Coming to try and stop me, you might need a team

I'll smoke all you fools like I do the Blue Dream

That ain't even like me though, I don't like fights I'd Rather sit back and chill and puff on these Northern Lights

I'm the king of this shit! that's a statement to make, Sounds like someone had too much of their Wedding Cake

I really am though, and I won't be told

My stock is getting higher than Acapulco Gold

I mean, I'm on fire, man, for the rest of my days

Okay, Mugz, just put down the Super Lemon Haze

Damn, I got the munchies, now let's go to 7-Eleven

Shit mugs, you smoke all the AK-47?

Fuck where my keys at? How the hell would I know?

Fuck the car, man, let's just take the White Rhino

We can't, we don't have enough, you smoked all that For lunch

And by the way, let me just say, that it packs a Purple Punch

It really does, but not like Hawaiian Snow

It's more like a Trainwreck crossed with Urban Gelato

Okay, I guess there's nothing left I can say or do

I'll just save my breath and this Gorilla Glue