Artist: Apocalipps f/ Iron Mic, Truck Album: Smokefest Song: Smokefest Typed By: pneumatic [Intro 1: Fatman Scoop] Ninety-seven, The number one station for hip-hop and r&b, It's Fatman Scoop, That's who I am man, You know the number, 1-800-223-9797, We're still givin out tickets for the smokefest, We're still doin that, But Apocalipps is not in the buildin, Don't call up hear askin for no Goddamn Dutches, And you wanna smoke, And you want weed, The man's not here, If you wanna reach em you gotta get at the man in the streets, That's where he's at, Go to Staten Island, Do not annoy the hell outta me, You wanna speak to me, You wanna copy of the smokefest, You can do that, 1-800-223-9797, Lets keep it movin, It's Hot 97 the official number one. [Intro 2: Truck] Ohh shit, I'm still fucked up Q, I'm tellin you man, This shit is good. (Get high, So high) [Chorus: Apocalipps] This is the smokefest, Yeah bring all that weed, And I'm talkin bout that get right, It shouldn't have seeds, This is the smokefest, Come on you gotta love it, And we gone burn all night, I'm talkin boxes of Dutches, At the smokefest, Here break up the hash, Matter fact, Yo you totin man, Puff puff pass. [Truck] Yo have you ever messed around and smoked weed out a bong, Got so high that you thought you was Cheech and Chong, Tell them niggas bout that garbage, I aint comin back, I'd rather go somewhere else for a twenty sack, I even lied to my doctor, I got cataracts, Swear up and down like there's somethin wrong with my back, Like I aint seen a nurse sneak fifty pounds in the back, I'm tired of payin for my weed, Yall aint payin me back, I was gonna get foul and straight rob this bitch, Instead I filled an application and got a job at this bitch, Like David Chappelle, Next week blowin on L's, Half baked in the janitor closet, Blowin the sale, Called up my Bastardz, I got a story to tell, Tell the niggas around the way I got ounces for sale, Pounds for cheap, Even got sample for free, For you first time buyers man, Who fuckin with me, And if you want the assignment, You better have my bread, Cause I'ma be on you and your man like Smokey and Greg, I'm big worm, This aint Friday, This is my day, A hood holiday, We all gettin high today. [Chorus] [Apocalipps] The juks is tonight, A job like this is risky, Peep how I call Rise Clyde for all of his sticky, I got the scoop for this rehab bitch, She turn tricks, She be chillin on one-four fifth in Saint Nick's, She said Lipps this nigga got mad shit, And I could tell she got em open with the tricks she could do on the dick, I grabbed the mask, Grabbed the gloves, Grabbed the nine and the clip, This nigga better have somethin or I'm pushin his shit, Now tie high up on some kinky shit, And then treat him like the President, Some Monica Lewinsky shit, Cause he's a fake rule boy and he not gone live, You can tell this motherfucka think he spark a Benz, Whatever leave the door open cause I'm gwan come in, Fix your watch bitch, Make sure you have em tied by ten, Now I'm in the lab, Duke Mary playin himself, Pictures of his wifes and kids on the walls and the shelfs, They freakin out, She got em handcuffed and blind folded, He got his safe open, Frontin for shorty, She got em open, It was like stealin candy from a baby, It's a dirty game, I'm on top yall thanks to my lady, She got you slippin with the slow neck, Thanks for the Rolex, And the weed is on you at the smokefest. [Chorus] [Iron Mic] Yo, Yo let me tell you bout this weed heist that you woulda did, It all started when I first bagged this stuartist bitch, I met her on the airlines, Flight 103, On my way OT to see my little cousin Nee, Cut to the chase yo, I bagged and stabbed it, She callin me off the hook, Sayin that she gotta have it, She starts puttin me on to where they keep the baggage, And how she smuggles in pounds of weed for these rappers, The girl is down for me, She in love with the Bastardz, She know we next up to be runnin this rap shit, But anyway, Back to the story, I know I had her in the smash when I asked her to bring my bad up for me, I played it cool, Didn't want to over-react, I asked you still be doin that for them niggas that rap, She said hell yeah, Three sixty-five days of the year, Bout every two weeks, Rain, Snow, Or sleet, They get in flown straight from Amsterdam, It's so sweet, I bring it to the cab then you pick em off in the street, I think I told myself, Get the weed and be on my way, Cause I aint tryna be bunkies with John Forte, Well peep this, I aint even have to use the nine, I just picked up them briefcases like they was mine, Flagged down a yellow cab, Cause it said express, The driver asked me where I was goin, I told that motherfucka to take me to that smokefest. [Chorus] [Outro: Apocalipps] (I wanna get high, So high) (I wanna get high, So high) Yo truck, Let me taste some of that shit that you stole from the hospital man, Pass that shit.