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Hotbox Anthem Lyrics by Potluck

Pipe Dreams

0

[Verse 1: Underated]
I'm fucked up, I'm too high but I still want more
And it's fucked up we got too much good weed to ignore
So we're closin all the doors and the windows too
Oh, you ain't smokin? Watch what sencond hand will do
It's the HotBox Anthem, it ain't a joke, put ya hands up
The room is filled with smoke, so many blunts you can't stand up
Humboldt bud shines in High Times magazines
And where I'm from we fillin up bags of weed for Halloween
Get in the truck, hit the blunt, get the Visine
Roll up the windows, were puff n tuff till our eyes bleed
Five j's a day the only way to get by
This ain't fake like the movies, Half-Baked or How High
Walk into the party, I ain't got no ice on
But I got the best weed you seen in
Your life son
One hit and you might fall
And the critics talkin shit like this a gimmick, fuck all ya'll

[Chorus: 1-Ton]
This ain't a club song with shakin and dancin
This ain't a love song with singin and romancin
This ain't a pop song about yo favorite fashion
We're here to smoke a blunt, this is the HotBox Anthem

[Verse 2: Mr. Garth-Culti Vader]
Hop into my hotbox AKA my office, I got it
It's Mr. Garth-Culti-Vader growin them pounds of purple chronic
When I get up on it most people call me the reefer doctor
Livin in the tent with my twelve gauge watchin for helicopters
I broke you off somethin kind of proper when I go get?
I'm watchin out for crooked coppers in my golden state
I can't stop it Mary Jane is out on another day
I'll just wait till my harvest? With some grapes
Not the ones from Napa but believe people be coming after this rapper
Because they know I'm a fuckin disaster
When I bring the master kush straight from the plant stalks
I'd like to welcome everybody to this hotbox

[Verse 3: 1-Ton]
Roll up the window smoking on a blunt, roll up the window turn the music up to bump
You ready to burn? Yep. Ok cool
Let's blaze up every molecule
Well I got a few well make gravity is on top of you
Fuck yeah! I got it, I'll hit it up in my spare time, I'll get ya high
I'll get that lighter, I got some fire, do it quick before expire
Showin em I was born to roll like I was master ace
So whatcha talkin about suburban for dubs
I'm talkin ace straight to the face
It's dank alumni, we smoking brass and weed
This smells like ass to me when you have to breathe
Cause every time I go to inhale, it's like?
Pack that bowl, hit it homie, you passed out
I'm doin dope fo sho, smokin trees, getting slow
Everything turns to I don't know
I don't wanna quit so I still roll
Man I still blowin my dough
Let's go get high like was sup?
Only time I shut the fuck up
Is every time the windows go up
So if you hotbox, hit it hard till it hurts
So I can get to the other side like? Trying to convert

[Chorus: 1-Ton]
This is dank alumni, we make fascia aroma therapy
Smokin cultural taking out a teepee like a Cherokee
A belished desire to smoke
Clouds developing start taking shapes lookin like the holy ghost
Don't you break the tag cough a drop ash in the interior, the hot box
I swear you'll be short in breath that'll make you inferior, that's top notch
Marijuana songs that beats the bounce of girls of hop scotch
Rollin blunts the size of redwood trees, joints the size of sasquatch
Inhale steam to let's your eyes sink
Whirling spells casted to reveal reflect the thoughts that I think
Positive progress towards liberation
No org local laws dedication the process
Blaze your favorite band without the guilty conscious

[Verse 4: 1-Ton]
I roll ounces of bang
More changes stay the same
I gotta hustle this game
You can catch me in my Chevy with my windows rollin up
Cause only you got perfect time to finish rollin a blunt
Still bumping gangsta rap
Still screaming fuckin cop like my car is on fire
When I'm cruising down the block
It's Smokey in the inside like the hot box anthem
My weed gets your brain like your smoking Charles Manson
The east they're smoking Phillies, the west we Rollin switches
Some people packing bong hits, some people joint twists'
But me smokes it all got a PHD, that's a pothead degree, wrap pot, best believe
I'll smoke a couple of P's just modest of me
When it comes to havin fire, I'm as hottest can be
I'm smoking like a chief, notice me, I'm holding cheese
Cause up in Humboldt county all are money growing trees
Credits

About “Hotbox Anthem” by Potluck

Read the complete lyrics to "Hotbox Anthem" by Potluck from the album "Pipe Dreams". On Lyrks you can follow along with the full text, explore the artist's discography, and discover related songs. The track is often categorized under Rap.

"Hotbox Anthem" is performed by Potluck. from the album "Pipe Dreams" This page provides the full lyric text for fans who want to sing along, study the songwriting, or compare versions across releases. Lyrks organizes lyrics by artist and song slug so you can bookmark and share a stable URL. Music lyrics help listeners connect with emotion, narrative, and rhythm in a track. Whether you are learning English, researching a favorite chorus, or preparing for karaoke, having accurate line breaks and section labels (verse, chorus, bridge) makes the experience easier. We link to the official artist profile on Lyrks where available, including biography snippets, top songs, and chart placements when we have that data. If you enjoy "Hotbox Anthem", explore more songs by Potluck using the links below. Chart and trending pages on Lyrks highlight what listeners are searching for this week. For copyright or correction requests, see our DMCA and contact pages.

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Frequently asked questions

"Hotbox Anthem" is credited to Potluck. Songwriting credits may include additional writers listed on the release; check the credits section on this page for linked collaborators.

"Hotbox Anthem" appears on "Pipe Dreams".

Visit the Potluck artist page at /artist/potluck for biography, popular tracks, and links to more lyric pages.


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