[Verse 1: Smoke DZA]
Right
Call up a uba, let's get out of this bitch
They like, "Man, you always steaming, bro?" I'm tired of this shit
Ain't no way on this green Earth I can get high off this cliff
You a fuckin' buddah head, you gon' die off this shit
That's a fuss answer, wrong drug dummy, that's a dust answer
Gamers have an appetite, but it's forever fuck cancer
Double L R varsity with the black panther
Hate a weed scientist actin' like that shit is that danker
Too much, thinkin' about it too much, okay Sampha
Pet-peevin' that anger, lash out on poor strangers
God damn it, another [?], she screamin', she probably hoarse
Asking if I mess with whores, n***a left that pussy sore
Wrong turn, fuck around catch a charley horse
Smokin' personal, she like, "It's 'bout time you cough"

[Chorus: Ty Dolla $ign]
Wake up, count my money
Hundreds, fifties, twenties
Rollin' up the dank
Pass her to the homie
Wake up, count my money
Hundreds, fifties, twenties
We don't love these hoes
Pass her to the homie
Pass off
[Bridge: Smoke DZA]
This is for G's and this is for my hustlers
This is for my hustlers stackin' they G's
This is for my G's and this is for my hustlers
Speakin' of my hustlers, back to this weed

{Verse 2: Smoke DZA}
A n***a chiefin', eighth grade high, cheesin'
Loadin' up my Snoop Dogg G-pen
I hit the road and get stoned
I don't even have to roll to get stoned
Shit, Dice Clay with the chain smokin'
Pothead shit, got my chains smokin'
Bob Marley head, diamonds all in up the dreads
I ain't that different, bitch please
You don't know the half, chicken
Plus a n***a wasted like a failed Grand Theft mission
So much chronic in my system
Pray to God I'm not a piss test victim
Well don't do crime, n***a
Too much bacon, stay off the swine n***a, pass off

[Chorus: Ty Dolla $ign]
Wake up, count my money
Hundreds, fifties, twenties
Rollin' up the dank
Pass her to the homie
Wake up, count my money
Hundreds, fifties, twenties
We don't love these hoes
Pass her to the homie
Pass off
[Verse 3: Bluntsmoker & Smoke DZA]
You know your man Bluntey, got these n***as crunchy
Fresh pack of Palmer's, roll me up a blunt please
I'm a smoker, never sober
I bought the drop, like bitch, you know us
She wanna blow us, hopped on a tour bus
Met us in Cali, drove up to Boulder (Colorado)
Now we rollin' while she blowin'
I got the bitch open, but (Pass off)

[Chorus: Ty Dolla $ign]
Wake up, count my money
Hundreds, fifties, twenties
Rollin' up the dank
Pass her to the homie
Wake up, count my money
Hundreds, fifties, twenties
We don't love these hoes
Pass her to the homie
Pass off