Eminem "Must Be The Ganja" |
INTRO: I feel like dancing, I feel like dancing/ I smell something in the air that's making me high/ I said I smell something in the air that's making me high/ VERSE 1: (Okay here we go) do-re-me-fa-so-fa-so-la-ti-da-so/ Lyrical Roscoe kick back a Tabasco/ You motherfuckers must just not know the tic-toc so/ Time to show you the most kick-ass flow in the cosmos/ Picasso with a pick-axe a sick asshole/ Tic-tac-toe 'cross your six-pack with X-acto/ Knives, stranglin' wives with thick lasso/ Big bags of the grass, Zig Zags, I'm with the Doc, so/ You know how that go- skull and the cross bones/ This is poison to boys and girls who do not know/ You do not wanna try this at home my little vato/ This is neither the time nor the place to get macho/ So crack a six-pack, sit back with some nachos/ Maybe some popcorn watch the show, and just rock slow/ It's not what you expected, nor what you thought so/ 'Bout time that you wake the fuck up smell the pot smoke/ CHORUS: It must be the ganja, it's the marijuana/ That's creeping up on me why I'm so high/ Maybe it's the Henny that has gotten in me/ Whatever's got into me I don't mind/ I said it's the ganja it's the marijuana/ That's creeping up on me why I'm so high/ Maybe it's the Henny that has gotten in me/ Whatever's got into me I don't mind/ VERSE 2: Your dreams are getting fulfilled, ooh I'm literally getting a chill/ Spitting at will, me and Dre have just finished splitting a pill/ Your submitting to skill, sitting still I'm admitting I'm beginning to feel/ Like I don't think anyone's real/ Faced with a dilemma, I can be Dahli Lama/ And be calm or bring drama step beyond a Jeffery Dahmer/ Please don't upset me mamma, yer lookin' sexy mamma/ Don't know if it's the la-la or the rum and Pepsi mamma/ Don't wanna end up inside my refrigerator freezer/ Be used as extra topping the next time I make a pizza/ How many people you know who can name every serial killer who ever existed in a row?/ Put 'em in chronological order beginning with Jack the Ripper/ Name the time and place from the body the bag the zipper/ Location of the woods where the body was dragged and then dumped/ The trunk that they were stuffed in the model the make the plate/ And which model which lake they found her and how they attacked the victim/ Say which murder weapon was used to do what in which one?/ Which knife and which gun, what kid what wife and which nun?/ Don't stop I like this it's fun, the fuckin' night's just begun/ CHORUS VERSE 3: When I'm behind the mic, dynamite's what it's kinda like/ You're stuck with the same stick that your tryin' to light/ Behing the boards sits Dre, legends are made this way/ Isn't it safe to say, this is the way it should be?/ Maybe you need some lyric serum syrup for your symptoms/ Here's a dosage of the antidote now you give him some/ He can give her some, she can give hime some, get behind a Linn Drum/ Make up a beat and cure the sucker syndrome/ The spinnin' drum when it comes to lyrics and pennin' some/ Starting from scratch and ending up at the endin' of/ Capable of winning a Pulitzer so unbelievable it's a/ Titanium cranium that's full of sur-/ Prises when the smoke rises right before your very own eyes/ You stare into your stereos high/ Good evening, this isn't even a weed thing/ I ain't even smoke anything I ain't even drinking/ CHORUS Lyric from www.lyricmania.com |