 I love this herb, I love this plant, I love this weed. First thing rise up, not the morning, now forget me, my sativa. Grab a heart like it a fever, my white ice now in a freezer. Heart a race like a beam of speedometer. Don't judge me. Every time you see me, me a bus clipper. My mates, I a gonna rum it with a cup of sip. I know this is going on radio. What a Antigua, Bronx, Atlanta, Virgin Islands. When you want to understand, they cannot be so judgeable.