Ha ha! yeah, yeah yeah, it's goin' down, down
This for all my niggas that be on that purple
That pur-pur-pur-purple purple drank yeah
That purple weed
Yeah hypnotize Minds if you got
It share that shit it's goin' down

Who got that purple pur-purple pur-purple
(yessir)
Who got that purple pur-purple pur-purple
(yessir)
Who got that purple pur-purple pur-purple
(yessir)
Who got that purple pur-purple pur-purple
(yessir)

As I, took me a pull
I knew that I wasn't ready
I was used to smokin' pine
Not that California ghetty
It was purple wit' them white
Fuzz hairs wrapped 'round it
I'm known as a fighter but my match
I done found it
From Cali to the Memphis dime streets
That our town in
I let some of my niggas test it out
And they crowned it
You niggas try to solve problems
By smokin' weed uh
But you only gettin' high
And ya problems become deeper
But ain't, nothin' but some Nike
Airs comin' to a sleeper
Ya girl got mad cause the
Patsta had to leave her
Looka looka hooker so I let
Her hit my tree but
Purple had her mind blowed
Fallin' to her knees-a

I got that purple, that purple, that purple
Yessir that juice I'm sippin' is thick and
Got me itchin' for sure
That weed I'm twistin' is sticky
Got my vision blurred
You know a ounce of that syrup
Speech be slurred
That's my word, I ain't a role model
Shit if it was up to Sigel
World be drinkin' bottles
Of that promethazine
Out in Philly they call it lean
Or they call it liq'
My niggas from the Three 6 bought a sack
We sip that slow 'til we
Throwed that's my word
A pint of that purp have
You sittin' on the curb
A mega trip or I'm on that
Liq' I'm trashin' 'em out
We sip it 'til we passin' out
Mo' syrup than the International House

Seeds, sticks and stems mixed in wit'
The sticky-icky
Tear up the blunts, make roll-in'
Good tricky-tricky
I used to smoke, the weed wit'
Embalmin' fluid had me high, for some days
You don't wanna do it
Eyes so red, I'm lookin' like a zombie
Paranoid, not scared, very hungry
Masterpiece, Barbeque chips, Skittles bag
What, I'm munchin' on right
After the last drag
Niggas'll ride, and get high
Wit' they tags out police'll spy
Pull 'em over wit' they badge out
You know that's dumb
You got guns but the bags out
The windows full of smoke
E'erybody passed out

Copyright: BMG Rights Management, Songtrust Ave
Writer(s): Dwight Grant, Jordan Houston, Patrick Houston, Paul Beauregard