It starts as a seed,
That you plant in the ground.
It turns into weed,
Which you smoke from a bong.
It makes you feel strange,
Makes you fidgit and twitch.
It makes you happy and glad,
Makes you want more of it.
You spot your bag and you point,
You look at your friend and you say,
“I’ll light up a joint,
If you pass that my way.”
You lick and you fold,
You pack it in tight.
The joint has been rolled,
It’s a beautiful sight.
You hit that shit up.
Puff, Puff, the smoke flows.
You pass it this way,
As a smile is shone.
A startling sound,
Puts a frown on your face.
Not a knock, but a pound,
Your heart starts to race.
You creep to the door
And slowly take a peek.
Laughing, you fall to the floor,
For it’s only your friend, the Geek.
He’s small as a runt,
But has lungs made for three,
He’s the kid of Big Blunts,
And he’ll smoke em’ for free.
So you invite him on in,
And you give him a chair.
He sparks up a blunt,
Pulls a hit like a bear.
Now down from the attic,
Comes your pal, AL.
He’s got a bottle of plastic,
And it’s full of Vodka.
He’s come to pay rent,
And he only pays in Nuggs.
He lives in your basement,
There he sits and he chugs.
He walks in the room,
And stumbles a bit.
His words are all slurred,
You tell him to sit.
He plops on a chair,
And just sits for a while.
Runs his hands through his hair,
Then begins to smile.
He pulls out an “O”,
Of the number one shit.
Nuggs with a glow,
Time for a hit.
So you pack up the pipe,
And you give it a light.
It smells and tastes good.
It’s a stoner’s delight.
By the end of the night,
When you feel all burnt out,
Smoke one more bowl,
Then pass out on the couch.