Four Hundred and Twenty Blues (skit)

Twenty three eyes on the leg of the time 
Like it's a big grind from a stripper after 9
Last block on a sunny Friday it's a feat
Didn't even pack a bowl I'm baking from this blazing heat
Prior to class, I packed bags to rack cash
Stashed hash in a sack so I could pass dad
I'm a bad-ass academic/without the crass
A pandemic to teaching fags infected by mad sass
After a day of tapping the brass, macking on lass, mass harrassing feeb-faggots in math
Bell dings and I dash to smoke grass from this glass 
And blow out like it's gas from fucking traffic on the overpass

Grab a gang that my dad bashed and called trash
Crash at Papa J's and pop another J
After Day runs away and hits the hay for the night
Haven't even slammed this mickey, already lost my mind
Luckily my homies are in sight in the site tight like Kite Runner
My appetite big as a terabyte
Ripe of hunger
Metabolism faster than Led Zepp's drummer
Shit cleaner than a keener-rubber-plunger-using-plumber

somefun



When fuck it is the attitude
Cause everybody's mad at you
Not a single soul was sculpted with a little gratitude
When all the bitches give you sass
and not to make a pass at you

How do you react to that

From the dime sack I grab and I pack a fat bowl or two
Hit a shit mix with bitch drink like a Malibu
Puke the combination in the back of Don's drive thru

And then go fence bowling

Spray paint swastikas and fuck yous all over preschools
Because being bad is cool
And cool puts you on a stool
Above everybody else even yourself alone into solitude

Ring up rob, Harry and the rest of the crew
Out of minutes like Matt?
They're all at back smoke pit sooner or later
To bum darts and slang chron
everyday after second; on and on and on
Antoine's chomping on an apple he's late for the big game he skates and flips over curbs straight in the casino at Fort Hall
A full table Stephens already tilting hard

BSP is mobbin deep with seventeen BTs
Creep up the front seat so Mackenzie can stretch feet
The thermo reads
four degrees and we're knocked out cold
Like when Rob dropped the 25 year old
Dro with the dro toked with a little hash in a blunt roll
Stash in a bank roll
Oh,
Did you hear the glass smash, looks like McCormick dropped his motherfucking sixty seventh bong bowl

Ronald with the raw knee from resisting 5-0
Threw a little tae bo
Couldn't lie low
I quote 'house arrest'
Cause he came back, my doe
Came back with a 12 pack ready To go
Buckley chirping nines for asking the time
Nerd raging at the rooks cause dropping balls is crime
Him and Eligh outshine all others with their dangles and their kicks to goal from behind the centerline

Smoking fat L's and J's with Lj and the Persian boy
joyed by the vapin toy
Ahoy to anybody else I missed
I'm just too fucking popular don't take it as a diss
Can't forget Jacob Pepin and his fisheye; the Nikon snapper
Soon to be an icon of thrasher
The story goes on its all written in this
We'll all toke open it up kick back and reminisce


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