welp im high again and wrote this little song while listening to a beat... im not a rapper but i thought it was funny so here

take a kick back with yo head in the clouds/
take a hit down ya neck that ell make yo homies proud/
you might got bills to pay but fuck it ypu gettin high/
watchin planes fly by/
close yo EYEEEESSS/ and dont think about yo worries/
save half that bowl fuck it whats the hurry/ or get twice as high taste the spices like curry/
sittin on the tile floor thinkin it feels furry/
dont call your dramatic bich up unless she work at pizza hut/
"a number 9 with lots of toppings and hurry up"/
when he come nockin at yo door thats when you realise you aint got no money/
put a remote under your shirt like a gun and tell em you need something in your tummy/
he laughs and says "ill pay for this one"/
"i know where you at in life like" he knew me personally/
it got to me/ personally/ like do i look like a bum
nah not even a little not even none/
i mean i am kinda nasty like dreamin bout nuns/
so i got in my car and swerved my way to the ghetto/
pulled to home depot/ and told my mexicano/ lets roll/
we gotta kill this pizza guy talkin made shit/
he say "ok boss but what about my profit"/
handed him an ounce and said keep yo mouth shut/
i could tell he was scared i bet his butt puckered up/
he prolly though oh shit another crazy italian on the loose/
cant say he was wrong but im not crazy cuz its only 9am and i aint started drinkin booze/
so i started the car with 10 turns of the keys/
tryna look cool in this motherfuckin hoopty/
i headed west/ to the local pizza hut located in the projects/
i got an Eagle at my waste ready to make a nest/
even if he strapped with a vest/ i melt a hole to his chest/
knocked down the door and said which one of you insulted my ego//
mexican looked mad queer/ said you crazy greengo//
im out of here/ so tell me how it goes//
a laughed and started aimin at the cashier/
looked like a pusher with a gram in his dareiar/
which driver did you send to my house home boy/
he said i think it was troy/ the one with the sooped up rice toy/
took a box of bread sticks and headed on my way/
lookin to put a greasy bitch in his grave/
suddenly my eyes opened up and what do you know/
my own weed passed me out it grew it with the hydro/
crystalls hangin off that bitch looked more like what columbians call snow/
thats the end of this story/ thats the end of this song//
when i finish snoring/ ill take another hit of my bong//

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"I don't do drugs just weed" -Half Baked