Some say bud, contains a resin
that's full of T-H-C
Some say bud, it's mother nature
And made for lungs to breathe
Some say bud, creates a hunger
An endless urge to feed
I say bud, it is a fiber
And hemp, a plant to weave

It's the mom, whose kids are smokin'
That can't smell cannibas
It's the teen, too busy tokin'
That's never seen in class
It's the son, whose dad's in prison
Whose always has some weed
And the soul, in pain with cancer
Whose brownies are baked to ease

When the narc's have been to nosey
And your roach has burned to long
And you think that bud is only for your brownies and your bongs
Just remember all the climber's
Far above the mountain slope
Need the weed
That with the sun's love, in the end
Becomes the rope