Let me tell you a little story about my good friend Bryce Abernathy
Aka The Cannabis Commander
Aka His Royal Highness
Aka The Green Knight
Aka the motherfucker that just got you high as fuck
Yeah that guy
Funny story, how we met
Here goes


One day about 5 years ago I came across an ad
That said we need a crew to photoshoot some shit up at my pad
You see, I throw a little festival up here upon my ranch
He called it the APOTcalypse; I thought it sounded rad
So yo, you know I hit him up to formulate a plan
It wasn’t far but fuck a car, rollin’ deep we took the van
It was me, Trashy B and the crew, with Jimijam
No stopping ’til the top of the hill, to Bryceland!
When we arrived it blew my mind, the kid had clearly flipped his wig
‘Cuz there was Bryce upon a flaming door up in the fire pit
He had a broadsword in hand with 3 t-bones upon the blade
He threw a rakish smile at me and said, "you must be Dave"
I said, David, Dave, or Davey, fuck it homie, it’s all proper
But those who know me best just call me the Good Doctor
"Welcome to humble abode here, Good Doc
Now I must insist you come along and smoke upon this pot
You see, APotcalypse is what will come when governments have failed
And in my land no head will end up rotting in a jail
I am the king and once I take this acid I will be god
Now come inside my house with me and I gaze upon my frogs"
I did as the commander bid and followed him inside
And from the day on all of us would be our ride or die
‘Cuz souls like that don’t come along but once or twice a life
And when you meet someone like him its always a surprise
And though it can get wild some times GODDAMN it's been a ride
No one can be more chill than him, I swear this dude abides
But when it’s time to party down that’s when he really shines
A cut above the word of god, now read between the lines

The Cannabis Commander, he did demand of us
to smoke copious nugs, dabs, and jazzy blunts
Mollies, boomers, and lines cut from the purest stuff
look in the mirror and question the life you’ve chosen thus

[Spoken]
Yeah I know the Commander, 10 feet tall
Lives on weed, sweet tea, and LSD
Never mind the blood drippin’ from both of his eyes
The Doctor says it’s not contagious

His royal highness is sitting upon a broken throne
composed of pieces from places that he once called his home
the wicked scepter he holds, a sigil all his own
from which he smokes the finest of plants that man has grown
He’s called a villain but he chills without a fucking care
Spice eyes, four-hundred-twenty-yard stare
The master keef, commands armies of ganga legionnaires
Engaged in chemical warfare, he clouds the atmosphere
He’s got a sickness and the only medicine is fun
So put your mouth upon the barrel of his smoking gun
He’s strikes with deft precision, he makes the bold decisions
to craft a proper proclamation for his congregation
His word is law but better than that his word is bond
Just ask his troopers and they’ll say that HEMPs a thousand strong
He formulates revenge that’s steeped in knightly attitude
cold steel with a grin before he runs ‘em through
the dudes iller than bubonic thoughts that’s plaguing you
but he’s benevolent to citizens that’s tried and true
He’d give the jumpsuit right off his resinated back
and smoke you out until there’s nothing more for you to have
He’s had it all, and soon enough he will again
The head peasant is surrounded with the truest friends
we are the scum of the scum, that cannot be debated
but in a town made of junk we are appreciated
He dreams big just like we did when we was kids
before the crush of expectations did those visions in
Big plans mean big falls from tall things
But how heavy the crown when you’re the mad king?

The Cannabis Commander, he did demand of us
to smoke copious nugs, dabs, and jazzy blunts
Mollies, boomers, and lines cut from the purest stuff
look in the mirror and question the life you’ve chosen thus