Eminem - Must Be The Ganja

INTRO:
I feel like dancing, I feel like dancing/
I smell something in the air that's making me high/
I said I smell something in the air that's making me high/

VERSE 1:
(Okay here we go) do-re-me-fa-so-fa-so-la-ti-da-so/
Lyrical Roscoe kick back a Tabasco/
You motherfuckers must just not know the tic-toc so/
Time to show you the most kick-ass flow in the cosmos/
Picasso with a pick-axe a sick asshole/
Tic-tac-toe 'cross your six-pack with X-acto/
Knives, stranglin' wives with thick lasso/
Big bags of the grass, Zig Zags, I'm with the Doc, so/
You know how that go- skull and the cross bones/
This is poison to boys and girls who do not know/
You do not wanna try this at home my little vato/
This is neither the time nor the place to get macho/
So crack a six-pack, sit back with some nachos/
Maybe some popcorn watch the show, and just rock slow/
It's not what you expected, nor what you thought so/
'Bout time that you wake the fuck up smell the pot smoke/

CHORUS:
It must be the ganja, it's the marijuana/
That's creeping up on me why I'm so high/
Maybe it's the Henny that has gotten in me/
Whatever's got into me I don't mind/
I said it's the ganja it's the marijuana/
That's creeping up on me why I'm so high/
Maybe it's the Henny that has gotten in me/
Whatever's got into me I don't mind/


VERSE 2:
Your dreams are getting fulfilled, ooh I'm literally getting a chill/
Spitting at will, me and Dre have just finished splitting a pill/
Your submitting to skill, sitting still I'm admitting I'm beginning to feel/
Like I don't think anyone's real/
Faced with a dilemma, I can be Dahli Lama/
And be calm or bring drama step beyond a Jeffery Dahmer/
Please don't upset me mamma, yer lookin' sexy mamma/
Don't know if it's the la-la or the rum and Pepsi mamma/
Don't wanna end up inside my refrigerator freezer/
Be used as extra topping the next time I make a pizza/
How many people you know who can name every serial killer who ever existed in a row?/
Put 'em in chronological order beginning with Jack the Ripper/
Name the time and place from the body the bag the zipper/
Location of the woods where the body was dragged and then dumped/
The trunk that they were stuffed in the model the make the plate/
And which model which lake they found her and how they attacked the victim/
Say which murder weapon was used to do what in which one?/
Which knife and which gun, what kid what wife and which nun?/
Don't stop I like this it's fun, the fuckin' night's just begun/

CHORUS

VERSE 3:
When I'm behind the mic, dynamite's what it's kinda like/
You're stuck with the same stick that your tryin' to light/
Behing the boards sits Dre, legends are made this way/
Isn't it safe to say, this is the way it should be?/
Maybe you need some lyric serum syrup for your symptoms/
Here's a dosage of the antidote now you give him some/
He can give her some, she can give hime some, get behind a Linn Drum/
Make up a beat and cure the sucker syndrome/
The spinnin' drum when it comes to lyrics and pennin' some/
Starting from scratch and ending up at the endin' of/
Capable of winning a Pulitzer so unbelievable it's a/
Titanium cranium that's full of sur-/
Prises when the smoke rises right before your very own eyes/
You stare into your stereos high/
Good evening, this isn't even a weed thing/
I ain't even smoke anything I ain't even drinking/

CHORUS

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