Lyrics:
De La Soul Weed 3 Black Thought

you hoe! (oh yeah me true true) You can be down too! ***** Yo yo, whatever to that I got this thought shit right here yo, black thought I got that shit

got this Thought shit right here yo, Black Thought I got that shit DOWN PAT Check hold on hold on let me hit that [inhales] (Ghost weeeeeeeeeeeeeeed!) Got that Thought

Dude we crossin' the color line, nuff money nuff weed Make a tuff nigga colorblind We rap for curb servers that hop in and out of cars Rep four cats wit 3

talking about black guys Talking about how young black guys are targeted Targeted by who? America You see 1 in every 100 Americans are locked up One in every 9 black

everyone he was evil a feeble minded young man with infinite potential the product of a ghetto bred capitalistic mental coincidentally dropped out of school to sell weed

go And 6 shots, from the 3-6 shooters lettin' 'em know, whoa Picture me, naked face, to kickin' in your door 4 niggaz deep, bandannas with black calicos

the herb The indos creating illusion my thoughts of confusion My vision is blurred The aroma of the marijuana The black of the smoke changing into black

I wish I could go along with you but I do have a problem. I've got My (Soul!) but I can't find my (Damn Hoe!) Poor X not only do I headsweat from headsets

to the muthafuckin, one of the hardest liuetenants on the tank, Mystikal. We was all born to be soldiers. See, these evil thoughts, they was scarred into our muthafuckin souls