This is a song about "420 sorrow"

The bar is passin' bottles, money comin' like the lotto

Six packs, or make a sick track, wallow in sadness, sorrow,

You are now face to face with a thorough pharaoh who be down on death row

I'm living like there's no tomorrow, ball till i fall mother fuck the sorrow

"hit 'em up" like 2pac, 420 in "faggot you're finished",

If i ain't get em yet, believe their name is on the short list

And if times of loneliness bring sorrow and dismay,

Looked to the heavens and asked him to make a better way

Smokin just to swallow any sorrow that they wallow in

So get your glass lift it up in the toast position

I'm with randy, great, 420, don, emmz, yeah i'm top ten,

Say there mr. mirror, put yourself up to yourself and then

Great and 420, i spit bullets faster than an armed gunmen

I ain't fucking mexican, but we can have sex again

Fellow don't mess with the hero of sorrow

I'm ripping the shows, hitting the dough