Clouds of Smoke

I manifest the 'erbs essence
When my life starts stressin me out and I see no way
But I got hope like Bob, in fact I keep tracks
and I packs in stacks for you new jacks
I'm buildin with the gods on some vibin
and now everyday I'm vibin, then I get licked bag of trick to lick the dick
See I know ways around complicated matters
Roll up in the ghetto on the island of Manhatten
See, though my ci-lo maintainin with the dread
Rock the flat top until the [shit] went dead
I'm known for my skills, all my technique's coast
I wreck rhymes systematic, I'm a turntable addict
But still I put it down to timin to the rap
Representin Harlem, mother[fucker] where you at?
Cos I got a bag and I gotta blunt
If you livin the life of da Call O' Da Wild, mother(fucker) whatcha want?

[Chorus x4:]

My head's in a cloud of smoke
When I choke upon the lye, air-high
(We flow eye-to-eye)

I'm on cloud 9, I keeps about a quarter pound of gunja
Oh I wonder, if I
could have a mega blunt session with my homeys, no question
The neighbourhood goon sewn like I'm from an (?A's Boon coon?)
Feed the feelin, the (shit) smarter
Hittin up your daughter, slaughter styles
The best way, Chico, me and Mico
That's my Ese, be gettin lye on a day-to-day
basis, I still find traces of hash in my back sack
Black, a matter o' fact
I need a shotgun, shotgun crush to my head
My eyes are swell, we're gettin bread, what the hell these?
Smooth stone is the way of the walk
I rather be [fucked] up then outlined in chalk
I stalk the streets of New York like a bandit
I landed a deal with some homeys from the Hill
On the real, I represent Harlem, New York
That small talk, kid I told you that [shit] walk
They're jealous, you know you can't [fuck] around fellas
You be sloshin like EPMD (You know I'm housin)

[Chorus x4]

So mellow out and sit back, relax
and listen to a track dedicated to the backs
8 black, wit phatness possessed, yes!
The Shooby-Doo with the E's puffin the bags that Buddha blessed
I like to utilise my scar mental
That's my fundamental, so check the dread-headed individual
from the sidewalks, where the basehead walks
and the hos won't talk unless you're large in New York
So can it be that I am just a Y-O-G
from the (?P-O-L-O the D-R-E-O-U-N-D?), baby
Gets crazy, hectic, so check my method

[Chorus x4]