Fo Yo Sorrows (feat. George Clinton, Too $hort & Sam Chris)

This is that dope-on-dope

Smoke, but don't choke on it's, the shit

Plenty blunt junkies have been known to croak

From less than a toke of it's, the bomb

For those who think life is unfair

'Cause I blow my smoke in the air

As if no one is standin' there

Then I'll roll one tonight for your sorrows

In my chair

As I sit back smiling from ear to ear

With a fistful of your girlfriend's hair

Yes, she'll blow one tonight for your sorrows

Daddy Fat Sax back on the scene

Went and shot two or three movies

But everything's straight like 9:15

It's back to the time machine, I believe

Back to the rhyming, back to the spit

Back to the hi-hats, *tsst*, kick, snare

Y'all **** dare to think that was it – we everywhere (Bitch!)

Like the air you breathe

Got 'em stuck like Chuck in the web we weave

Like a lace front wig stuck to the forehead

Best believe I'll change your steeze, take the lead

Change the speed, slow it down, just for the sport

****, one of my favorite rappers happens to be Too $hort

Now everybody wanna sell dope (Sell dope)

Got a P, got a pound, got some hope (Nope)

Jesse Jackson had a lil' bit of hope

For the folks on the rope, back in 1984 ('84)

Bitch!

For those who think life is unfair

'Cause I blow my smoke in the air

As if no one is standin' there

Then I'll roll one tonight for your sorrows

Just to let you know that everything is straight

I say, "Stank you very much," 'cause we appreciate the hate

Now, go get yourself a handgun—you fucking with a great

Put it to your mouth and squeeze it like your morning toothpaste—kill yourself

Like Sean Kingston, suicidal for a title

My recitals are vital, and may be needed for survival

Like the Bible or any other good book that you read

Why are 75% of our youth reading magazines?

'Cause they used to fantasy, and it's what they do to dream

Call it "fiction addiction," 'cause the truth is a heavy thing

Remember when the levees screamed, made the folks evacuees?

Yeah, I'm still speakin' about it, 'cause New Orleans ain't clean

When we shoutin "Dirty South," I don't think that is what we mean

I mean, it mean the rough, the tough, the dangerous—we reign supreme

Can slaughter entire teams with the ink that my pen bleeds

B-I-G B-O-I, ****, please

For those who think life is unfair

'Cause I blow my smoke in the air

As if no one is standin' there

Then I'll roll one tonight for your sorrows

In my chair

As I sit back smiling from ear to ear

With a fistful of your girlfriend's hair

Yes, she'll blow one tonight for your sorrows

Don't want no girlfriend

Just need my dope (I just need my dope)

Won't front on the world when

I'm behind in my smoke (I'm behind in my smoke)

On the back burner, you could just simmer around

But on the front burner, you better burn—

A fat one

(Roll that up, fire that shit up)

A fat one (Fire it up)

A fat, fat, fat one

This is that dope-on-dope

Smoke, but don't choke on it's, the shit

Plenty of blunt junkies have been known to croak

On less than a toke of it's, the bomb

Bombarding the brain, a bong instant-replays

The place to come came and went

Time well spent, bent

Take another huff and puff and choke and toke and icky, stinky, sticky

Stuff a bowl and pack a pipe, twist a blunt, roll and light a joint

'Cause this is the dope-on-dope

Some good shit

Yeah

Lean back and puff slow