My mission the commission of the dishin` out for facts
Cuz when I`m dimin` my rhymin` never slacks, never lacks
So get back to the basics and face it
The American dream ain`t what it seems
With lies they`ve laced it
Can`t you taste it?
See they baste it in an imitation butter
We`ve ate it and realized it`s not nature to mother
Generic like no other
Man fuck big brother
The Kottonmouth King Klick
Are you blind or somethin`?
Are you blind to the fact
You think that this system
That this society sees any other color other than green?
Well it`s all slave driven`
The illusion of ownership in America
Properting is theft
How we livin` ?
The bong tokin` alcoholics
The bong tokin` alcoholics
The bong tokin` alcoholics
The bong tokin` alcoholics
Gettin` bent every night is the thing we do
I get up every day in the afternoon
I crawl out the bed on the way to the shower
I gotta hurry up I got a date in a hour
Well I call my boy X on the shower phone
`What`s up, Saint? Man, I`m stoned alone
By the way I got the freaks on wait
Call up the krew, hook it up. Late.`
I hung up with X and gave my boys a holla
D-loc picked up said, `What`s up balla?`
Just drop in a dime and tell him about this party
There`ll be a lotta beer and some naughty hotties
I`ll call Bobby let him know the plan
And we`ll bounce through in the nitrate van
We`ll take a road trip, 40 sip on the way
Oh yeah X comin` through with some freaks from the Bay