LyricsLost My Weed
sant da man
- Written by :
- Santiago Gamarra
Damn i got high and i lost my weed Damn i got high and i lost my weed Damn i got high and i lost my weed
Damn i got high and i lost my weed I lost my weed where the fuck could it be I want to get high quick ’cause i can’t stand this reality Man i need to find it but i cant remind me where i left it maybe it was theft, kid Damn i just want to spark sess That marvelous harvest i grew in my garden I can smell it on my garments Temperature rising Blood pressure gettin’ high Unlike me Cause i can’t find my weed My minds already fucked up So why fuck up my day? Can’t you understand that i just want to light a fucking j? Hey, you seen a lil Green bag lying around on the ground? But all these motherfuckers do is frown Sometimes they smile and say “no” But i can see the lies in their eyes though Why are you getting high on my supply yo? That aint cool You know the codes and rules ever since we been to school Why are you trying to play me like a fool? They say “nah man, i’d never do that stop tripping your minds just flipping off the shit you sippin’ Have you looked inside your hiding spot?” Oh shit i forgot about that No i think not So i check but didn’t find it yet yo it aint here How could it be that my shit just disappeared? How could it be that i got so forgetful? Losing my dro all the time i gota b more careful Maybe a left it while blazing at the bus station On the rare monday morning occasion I looked for it every where a stoner greatest fear I was so upset i was on the edge of shedding tears Life just aint the same without my dearest Mary jane The smell in the room when she touches the flame Is it too much to ask to find my fucking grass It’s such a easy task if i weren’t such a lazy ass Then my man says “Yo, u checked youre pockets?” Got it! Goddamn get the grinder man and lets blaze it up Damn i got high and i lost my weed Damn i got high and i lost my weed Damn i got high and i lost my weed Damn i got high and i lost my weed Damn i got high and i lost my weed Damn i got high and i lost my weed Damn i got high and i lost my weed Damn i got high and i lost my weed Damn i got high and i lost my weed Damn i got high and i lost my weed Damn i got high and i lost my weed Damn i got high and i lost my weed, yeah
Lyrics for Lost My Weed by sant da man. Damn i got high and i lost my weed Damn i got high and i lost my weed Damn i got high and …
A Step by Step Guide to Finding Lost Objects from a Pothead Looking for His Phone
One day this year our well-coiffed, sexy one-hitter of a prime minister is going to legalize sweet lady Mary Jane. Obviously, this is good news despite the roll out of legalization being seemingly designed by someone who has never tried pot because they are worried it will make them paranoid. (One decidedly unsubstantiated rumor I heard was that there is only going to be one bong in Ontario and we all have to share it.)
After seeing my grandmother share another non-ironic link to an article about the widespread blight of people getting their pets high, I do have some hesitancy though. I wonder if Canadians are ready. Specifically, are Canadians ready for how much shit they are about to lose?
As someone who has dabbled in marijuana pretty much daily for the past ten years, I know the harsh truth that no object ever truly belongs to a pothead. The object and the pothead are on two separate journeys, destined to be intertwined for a moment before passing by one another. Pens, debit and credit cards, keys, documents, articles of clothing; I like to imagine that all the objects I’ve lost are twirling in a psychedelic afterlife, holding hands and dancing to CCR.
So in a bid to prepare Canadians for the legalization of misplacing-enhancing devil’s shrub, here is a step-by-step guide to finding what you’ve lost from a legitimate weed addict who is currently, as of this writing, looking for his (flip) phone.
Why People Think Potheads Are Lazy: A History
Step One: Leave Rationality Behind and Roll One Up
If you are a true pothead you know that there is only one way to do anything that is slightly productive but also boring: get baked as hell (anyone who has spent an hour plus washing dishes because the warm water feels so nice knows what I’m talking about). Plus, listen, it was stoned you that got you into this mess and goddamnit it is stoned you that is going to get you out of it. You think a sober, clear mind is going to be up to the task of finding your checkbook? No, sometimes you have to think like a serial killer to catch a serial killer, and some sometimes you gotta get high to figure out that you left your checkbook in the drawer with all the ladles and wooden spoons in it. So the first step before you put on your searching outfit (I prefer camo shorts and a sturdy pair of binoculars) is to roll one up and get yourself in an exploratory mindset.
Step 2: It’s In Your Pocket
Oh my pockets, what frailties and weaknesses of my psyche do you hide within your seemingly endless twists and folds? Reaching into my pockets sometimes feels like I’m an archaeologist dredging through the ruins of a life not well lived, their subconcious depths stuffed with bus transfers, coins, scraps of paper with jokes on them that I confuse with money sometimes only to pull them from my pocket see that it’s not money and whisper to the joke, “Someday you’ll be a money-making joke…someday,” before releasing it into the wind.
Before you begin the nitty gritty work of getting on your hands and knees, check your pockets. There’s a good chance at least something important is stuffed in those things. The key is not being afraid of what you’ll find in your pockets—just keep digging around in there. This summer I was in a drink line at music festival, incredibly high, obviously. I knew there were drink tickets in my pockets but every time I reached into my pockets it felt like I was dipping my fingers into a strange anti-matter universe where the rules of physics did not apply but I kept rummaging and ignored the mounting panic and eventually found the ticket and attained a thoroughly unnecessary new beer. So keep rummaging you’ll be surprised at how often what you thought was a pointy, jagged coin is actually the house key you were looking for.
Step 3: Snacks
This is going to take a while, so you are going to want to fuel up. Chips, granola bars, so much juice. Also you can use the snacks to help with your search. Dust your room with Cheeto dust to find some clues, pour 7UP on the floor to find any hidden caverns or divots where your change may have tumbled into. Just be careful. You’ll be surprised at how easily you can lose things in the very chip bags you came to rely on. It’s shameful, the amount of times I’ve found the debit card I was looking for at the bottom of Ruffles bag emptied with savage ruthlessness.
Step 4: Escape the Physical Realm
Been searching for what seems like an eternity (which in pothead searching time is about six or seven minutes) with no results? Don’t worry, there are other ways of searching if one is desperate enough (cue sinister cackling). That’s right it’s time to appeal to darker power of the occult and supernatural. Find yourself a Ouija board and/or paint a pentagram on the floor of your living room and sacrifice one of your wilting houseplants hopefully summoning a helpful house spirit that will assist you in your quest. Myself, I’ll occasionally bust out a pack of Tarot cards. Admittedly, they haven’t helped me find anything but I am becoming increasingly convinced that my tragic death is imminent which makes all worries about misplaced objects seem irrelevant.
Step 5: Trust No One
You’ve stocked up on snacks, looked under every damn pillow in your apartment and even attempted to gain the assistance of Cthulthu and still no answers. Perhaps the problem is that you have been too trusting. Ask yourself: who is benefitting from my present situation, who are my enemies? Let that sweet pot paranoia into your heart while you tear your apartment apart. Did you ask your roommate if he knew where your wallet is? Did he say, “No”? Of course he did but how do you know that you can really trust him? Where does he go all day, who’s he talking to on his phone all the time? It could be anybody, it could be your parents, my god it could be the feds, who knows how deep this whole thing could go. On pot, every lost object presents a chance to fall into a delicious wormhole, a clandestine world of shadowy figures, secrets, lies and, like any good secretive intelligence operation, an opportunity to rummage through a trash can.
Step 6: Let It Go
Based upon my own history there’s a good chance that (like notorious tax cheat Bono sings) you aren’t going to find what you are looking for. That’s why the penultimate step is to let it go. Take this loss as an opportunity to reevaluate your relationship with the possession. It’s like the expressions says: God doesn’t empty a pop bottle without creating a sinker/water pipe.
You’ve done all that you could: you’ve flipped the couch cushions thricely, you’ve looked under various blankets and towels, you’ve cursed the heavens and your own hubris. Now is the time to take a step back and re-evaluate how much you really need the missing thing. Credit card? Hell, a good pothead should be aware that credit is a trap set up by the police to make us obey the rules. That other sock? Who said socks need to match anyways. Your keys? You’ve always wanted to be closer to nature, that journey can begin now. Once it looks like the object is gone forever, take a deep puff and realize that maybe you were just trying to free yourself from these fabricated obligations and responsibilities and now that you don’t know where your wallet is you can truly be free.
Step 7: Quit Smoking Pot (Optional)
The most desperate step of all and one that, if you related to this article at all, should probably consider. I’m attempting to do it right now. The pro is that things are normally in the reasonable spot where you left them. The con is that it turns out when you stop smoking weed you find all your repressed emotions like old food you forgot about it in your fridge and now searching for anything longer than ten seconds fills me with earth-scorching rage that quickly dovetails into seething despair. But also I’m having dreams again for the first time in a decade and they are killer and awesome; intense, sexual affairs where I end up in a long-term, Before Sunset-style relationship with one of the walking hammers from Pink Floyd’s The Wall so this step is worth it for the DMT-but-sober dreams alone.
So there it is: a quick seven-step guide to finding a lost object that admittedly will probably not help you find a thing at all. But, if you follow the steps accordingly, you just might find what you have been actually looking for this whole time: yourself. Follow Jordan Foisy on Twitter.
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Step one: Procure cannabis.