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Description
When the air becomes thick like syrup and your thoughts suddenly decide to take a vacation, this is what happens. The world is slightly blurred around the edges, like a photo from an old phone, but inside everything is crystal clear: there's no need to rush, no need to prove anything, no need to be the hero of the day. It's enough just to breathe (if you can still feel your lungs) and laugh at how funny the word “Bruce” sounds after the third repetition.
In this state, even the police officers at the door are not enemies, but characters in a sitcom who are unlucky with their roles. The kitchen turns into an alchemist's laboratory, friends turn into marble statues, and reality turns into a cartoon with a soundtrack of coughing and beats. All serious conversations are postponed until tomorrow, or maybe the day after tomorrow. Today, it's enough just to be - slow, smoky, content.
Lyrics and translation
Original
Prawie już nie czuję płuc, yeah. Wystarczył mi jeden buch.
Zioło co kopie jak jebany Bruce Wayne, albo jak jebany Bruce Lee.
Prawie już nie czuję płuc, yeah. Wystarczył mi jeden buch. Zioło co kopie jak jebany Bruce.
Prawie już nie czuję płuc.
Wystarczył jeden buch, żeby mi spowolnić mózg.
Zioło co kopie tak jak Bruce.
Zioło co kopie tak jak. . . Blunt na bla, wszędzie grass i blety.
Mój plug ma hasz, co ma smak strawberry. Backwood, graj guz, weź wrzuć lód w henny, kręć z dwóch.
Nie spój, nie stój jak debil i zgaś ten chwast.
No bo strach to palić, mam stuff stop. Łan to nie krzak z kolcami. Pięć sztuk we dwóch.
No i chuj tam z psami, niech śpią pod drzwiami. Dmucham w judasza. Niech se postoją do białego rana.
Znam swoje prawa. Nie mam obowiązku do otwierania tym kurwom mieszkania.
Wpada do mnie z gandzią, bo wie, że po joincie stoję na baczność.
Jeszcze jeden buch. Prawie już nie czuję płuc.
Wystarczył jeden buch, żeby mi spowolnić mózg.
Zioło co kopie tak jak Bruce.
Zioło co kopie tak jak. . . Nic nie pachnie jak gandzia w autach.
Nie pamiętam trasy jak Marty McFly. Jestem szefem kuchni, wrzucam top do garnka.
Babciu, proszę to na stole to nie zwykłe ciastka, więc uważaj, bo wyjebie cię z tapczana i na stówę będziesz gadać, że spotkaliśmy Batmana.
Patrzę na Macieja, który wygląda jak Skała i od razu się dosiadam. Czterech na kanapie. Teraz wyglądamy jak góra
Raszmor. U nas indoor, nie outdoor. W twoich topach piach oraz paproch.
No i pachną jak szampon Domestos lub Cargo.
Żaden z moich ludzi się nie jebie z taką gandzią. Tu się kurzy jak u starego za szopką.
To zioło mnie ścina z nóg. Prawie już nie czuję płuc.
Wystarczył jeden buch, żeby mi spowolnić mózg.
Zioło co kopie tak jak Bruce.
Zioło co kopie tak jak Bruce
English translation
I can barely feel my lungs anymore, yeah. One puff was enough for me.
A weed that kicks like fucking Bruce Wayne or like fucking Bruce Lee.
I can barely feel my lungs anymore, yeah. One puff was enough for me. Weed that kicks like fucking Bruce.
I can barely feel my lungs anymore.
One puff was enough to slow my brain down.
A weed that kicks just like Bruce.
A herb that digs like. . . Blunt on blah, grass and bluets everywhere.
My plug has hash, which tastes like strawberry. Backwood, play the bump, get some ice in the henna, spin two shots.
Don't look, don't stand there like an idiot and put out that weed.
Well, because I'm afraid to smoke, I have to stop stuffing. A field is not a bush with thorns. Five pieces for two.
And fuck the dogs, let them sleep by the door. I blow into the peephole. Let them stand there until dawn.
I know my rights. I have no obligation to open the apartment to these whores.
He comes over to my house with some ganja because he knows I'm on alert after a joint.
One more puff. I can barely feel my lungs anymore.
One puff was enough to slow my brain down.
A weed that kicks just like Bruce.
A herb that digs like. . . Nothing smells like ganja in cars.
I don't remember the route like Marty McFly. I'm a chef, I throw the top into the pot.
Grandma, please, these are not ordinary cookies on the table, so be careful, or I'll kick you off the couch and you'll be telling me we met Batman.
I look at Maciej, who looks like Skała, and immediately mount him. Four on the couch. Now we look like a mountain
Rashmor. We do it indoors, not outdoors. There's sand and dirt in your tops.
And they smell like Domestos or Cargo shampoo.
None of my people fuck with that kind of ganja. It's gathering dust in here like an old man behind the crib.
This herb kills me. I can barely feel my lungs anymore.
One puff was enough to slow my brain down.
A weed that kicks just like Bruce.
A weed that kicks just like Bruce