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    set to the beat and words of BDP's "Beef" from the LP +Edutainment+  
    [Mr. Eon]  
    Weed, weed, what a relief  
    Where will my eighth a day habit cease?  
    This an agricultural service announcement  
    You can treat it, and you can douse it  
    Let us begin now with the plant  
    The way that it gets to your blunt in hand  
    See the herb doesn't grow fast enough for man  
    so for his lye, he makes a master plan  
    He has bowls to make the weed grow quicker  
    Through the hydroponic, the weed gets sicker  
    Twenty-one different soils are dumped  
    into the pot in one big lump  
    So just before it dies, it dries  
    in my back closet, with no moss and flies  
    Off with the bud, we cut it, weigh it, and bag it  
    and there it is for your local street addict  
    Green and buddy, an ounce condensely packed  
    Smoke it up and catch a heart attack  
    Now come on now man let's be for real  
    You are what you smoke is the way I feel but  
    the weed and blunt administration'll  
    have you thinkin lye is the perfect combination  
    See heads be livin under fear and stress  
    wonderin where they get the best  
    Now beer and bless can become a part of you  
    in your cells and dome, this is true  
    So when the plant is grown, believe it  
    Sell some to your man or smoke for free kid  
    Roll it up, and begin seasonin  
    Then you sit down, and begin seein shit  
    In your body, Blackwoods, a Phillie, a Dutcher  
    All the need and fiend for another  
    See any smoke's addictive by any man  
    Even the brownish rag it's all the same  
    The alchemist'll have my ass, strung out  
    on the indo and Northern Lights no doubt  
    Think you got your weed habit on lock?  
    Tell yourself you gonna try and stop  
    smokin weed and you'll see you need the tree  
    It's the number one drug on the street  
    Not coke, cause that's a category of dope  
    but the green leaf, that I smoke with wreath  
    Now herb brings life and real bad breath  
    Smoke all your shit and what you got left?  
    Absolutely high, the sedative  
    Watchin the movie Friday, with a spliff  
    by Chris Tucker, that high motherfucker  
    For anybody, Northern or Southerner  
    See how many blunts we gotta pump up fatter?  
    How many seeds gotta fall in the batter?  
    How many chickens wanna smoke what you smoke?  
    And how many heads ask for just one toke?  
    Now they'll consume, the local dread could care less  
    He'll sell you donkey shit and say it's FRESH  
    for ninety-nine, you suckerrrrrrrrrs!  
    High & Mighty, Mr. Eon, Mighty Mi  
    Get your own shit, get your own shit man  
    This my shit, I smoke my shit you smoke your shit  
    Then we'll be fine

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