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Black Mamba

I’m your Black Mamba, Juicy Puff bag-bride light.

Cus. Roll it, Bro’. Good, tight and fat.

Wired, wasted, ripped and lit for the night.

It’s da WINZ special Thursday kronic flight.

The Sugarman sweet as da creamy kat.

I’m your Black Mamba, Juicy Puff, bag-bride light.

Hey, Bitch. Mother. Blow me a kite.

Don’t ya give me that shit. What you lookin’ at?

Wired, wasted, ripped and lit for the night.

He’s a codie-soaked Bliss skunk about to ignite.

An amped, buzzed hunk of edible fat.

I’m your Black Mamba, Juicy Puff, bag-bride light.

The kids, the Missus, he’s bitchin’ for a fight.

He’s a bender, bruiser, dishing-the-bash rat.

Wired, wasted, ripped and lit for the night.

He’s rippin’ armholes in psychotic kryptonite.

A wall to wall screamer. One crazy burnt-out bat.

I’m your Black Mamba, Juicy Puff, bag-bride light.

Wired, wasted, ripped and lit for the night.