Texty: Slightly Stoopid. Chronchitis. 2 am.

Two in the mornin', police knockin' at my door, what for?
Never know the reasons they be comin' packin'
And then they're comin' through
I tell them he just kick down my door
Even though I'm on the floor with a gun to my head

All the reason that I'm holdin' all the trees
And I gotta a lot a weed, they be spottin' me with infa-red
In the mood and I'm, "Who the hell is you?"
Still they comin' through, holdin' up the innocent, yeah

Three in the mornin' in the cell, you'll get harrassed by the man
Call my girl, baby comin' just as quick as she can
With the money for the case, we're gonna make it alright
Even though my weed and money could afford it tonight

And leave the case to detonate inside the place when I'm gone
Tellin' all the places, yo, I ought to handle all this alone
I say somethin' wrong? Wait, who the hell is you?
Aw, you comin' through, holdin' up them innocent, yeah

Four in the mornin', police knockin' at my door, what for?
Bet I know the reasons he comin' back and
And then they comin' through
I tell them, "He just kicked down my door"
Even though I'm on the floor with a gun to my head

And all the reason that I'm holdin' all the trees
And I gotta a lot a weed, they be spottin' me with infa-red
In the mood singin', "Who the hell is you?"
Oh, you comin' through, holdin' up the innocent, yeah