Last Sunday at noon, he had nothing to do,
So he went out to get him some dubees.
That day, he had set, to get weed in his head,
Wouldn't settle for pills or mushroomies.
That day he was gaddy when he jumped in his Caddy,
And then his good friend Harold was beside him.
The car was in tune, and his crew was real true,
When the cops of Fort Wayne came out early .

That dealer of mine of the American side
Coming back from some field in the unknown,
He had zig-zags and coke, and was loaded with dope
With a pipe and water bong for the stoned.
He only wants cash or your girlfriend's nice ass,
And you'll never settle for the latter,
So they got half a grand, and put it in his hand,
And he packed the weed up like a bagger.
He asked "Do ya' want more? I've got a loaded store,
And you are my finest client in this coop."
He had meth and had crack, but there's no turning back,
T'was the cops of Fort Wayne that were the snoops.
On the hour long drive home, they had to go quite slow,
Cuz' it's bad to rise popo suspicion.
It'd be misery to get a felony,
In Allen County Jail or Prison.

When they past Wells street, they had got the munchies so,
Harold went to the local town Kroger's.
He got Coronas to drink and bologna to eat, he said
"We gots to get home much sooner."
The brick house was in sight, they were filled with delight,
And the weed they had was brown and herald.
And later that night when the bongs were all a light,
Came the toke of the stoner and Harold.

Does anyone know where the stoner boys go,
Where their dubage is low, almost empty?
The searches all say just go 2 blocks past Wayne,
And turn left on that street, and be happy.
Just head to Eden Greene and you will find your green,
But the dealers are smart and are unknown.
And all that remains are the street creds and names,
Of the places the cops and the stoners.

Just head down Wells St., Greenlawn is full of dreams,
By the brick house where Harold was tokin'.
The house-six, sity-one- houses danger and fun,
Where the apples there are used for smoking.
He used to have cash, now he's got some ass,
He's spends it all on his cannibus,
And the stoners all know where that one Stoner'd go,
With that Sunday he traveled remembered.

In a musty basement in his house they layed,
With the bongs all alit like a carol.
Each one smoked a dime, at least twenty-nine times
To remember that Stoner and Harold.
That day he was gaddy when he jumped in his Caddy,
And then his good friend Harold was beside him.
The car was in was tune, and his crew was real true,
When the cops of Fort Wayne came out early .