It’s a little bit sticky, this bowlhead inside

It’s not one of those that can, easily slide

I don’t have no bombies but, boy if I did

I’d buy a nice bong that we both could hit

 

If I was a dealer, but then again, no

Or a man, who sells ten-sacks but as, .01 too low

I know it’s just mids, but it’s the best I can do

I creamed it up nice and, this hit’s for you

 

And you can tell everybody this is your bong

It may be quite little but, just rip it real strong

No percolator

No percolator–not so fancy this bong

But how red will your eyes get, when you rip it strong

 

I chilled on the couch and opened a bag

Well a few, of the chip crumbs, didn’t land, in my mouth

But the munchies subside now, that my high is gone

It’s potheads like you that, keep me smoking on

 

So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do

You see, I’ve forgotten, if your name’s Rick, or it’s Lou

Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean

You’ve got the reddest eyes I’ve ever seen

 

And you can tell everybody this is your bong

It may be quite little but, just rip it real strong

I hope you don’t mind

I hope you don’t mind–if I spark out of turn

How red will your eyes get, when you rip it strong

 

No percolator

No percolator–just a quaint little bong

But how red will your eyes get, when you rip it strong