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| Da Brat Funkdafied Fire It Up Now this some bad weed, Ba dee ya dee ya dee ya dee ya, Oh how I love it when I fire it up, Ba dee ya dee ya dee ya dee ya, Laying in the cut getting real f~cked up. My day starts out light, But ends up very heavy as the night approach, When I take float from all that smoke that I smoked, No joke, as I commence to take flight, It's gotta be first class cause this ass could give a f~ck about coach b~tch, How high do you fly when you fly Brat? From the bottom to the top, top to bottom and back, Now as I lay me in the cut getting f~cked up, Puffing on blunts and coming up with some more of that funky stuff, Rough and tough is not enough to keep my focus, Notice that hocus pocus abracadaba smoke just, Fills up the room as I breathe again, once more from the ghetto it's them braids and, When flossing in my Benz with my friends it begins, Smell the aroma, putting you in coma, It's that super stanky dank that'll make you faint, go blank, Hey, when I hits the door, all my niggas say. Chorus: Ba dee ya dee ya dee ya dee ya, It's probably all the chronic that I smoke, Oh how we love it when you fire it up, Ba dee ya dee ya dee ya dee ya, Laying in the cut getting real f~cked up, Ba dee ya dee ya dee ya dee ya, It's probably all the chronic that I smoke, Oh how we love it when you fire it up, Ba dee ya dee ya dee ya dee ya, Laying in the cut getting real f~cked up. It's a new day, new day truly ain't nothing changed, Fall up out my bed to the same old things, Your average everyday black surroundings, It's barbecue, a little weed, it's some niggas with some bass pounding, One o'clock is the time I raise, Take a shower, brush my teeth and correct my braids, Now listen up to what I say, Because this type of sh~t, it happens everyday, And I got a place where I search my soul, In the summer it's a pool, in the winter it's a smoke hole, 20 feet away from the house in the back, Surrounded by a gate, draped in all black, It's where me and my homies go, Smoking on that dank 'til it ain't no more, How we smoke? We smoke to a maximum, Doing our thing, kicking back relaxing and uh. Chorus: Ba dee ya dee ya dee ya dee ya, It's probably all the chronic that I smoke, Oh how we love it when you fire it up, Ba dee ya dee ya dee ya dee ya, Laying in the cut getting real f~cked up, Ba dee ya dee ya dee ya dee ya, It's probably all the chronic that I smoke, Oh how we love it when you fire it up, Ba dee ya dee ya dee ya dee ya, Laying in the cut getting real f~cked up. |
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