Yeah, oh
Yeah, yeah, oh
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
Okay, here we go, do-re-mi-fa-so, fa-so-la-ti-da-so
Lyrical Roscoe, kick back the Tabasco
You motherfuckers must just not know the ticktock, so
Time to show you the most kick-ass flow in the cosmos
Picasso with a pickaxe, 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 crossbones
This is poison to boys and girls who do not know
You do not wanna try this at home, my lil' 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 and 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
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
Your dreams are gettin' fulfilled, ooh, I'm literally gettin' a chill
Spittin' at will, me and Dre have just finished splittin' a pill
You're submittin' to skill, sittin' still
I'm admittin' I'm beginnin' to feel like I don't think anyone's real
Faced with a dilemma, I can be Dalai Lama
And be calm or bring drama, a step beyond of Jeffrey Dahmer
Please don't upset me, mama, you're lookin' sexy, mama
Don't know if it's the lala or the rum and Pepsi, mama
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, beginnin' 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 in, 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
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 Hindi that has gotten in me
Whatever's got into me, I don't mind
When I'm behind the mic, dynamites what it's kinda like
You're stuck with the same stick that you're tryna light
Behind the board 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 syrup serum for your symptoms
Here's a dosage of the antidote, now you give him some
He can give her some, she can give them some
Get behind a LinnDrum, make up a beat and cure the sucker syndrome
The spinnin' drum when it comes to lyrics and pennin' some
Startin' from scratch and then endin' up at the ending of
Capable of winnin' a Pulitzer
So unbelievable, it's a titanium cranium that's full of surprises
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
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
It must be the ganja, it's the marijuana
That's creeping up on me, why I'm so high
Maybe it's the Hindi that has gotten in me
Whatever's got into me, I don't mind
