Party hardy, rock and roll

Drink a 40, smoke a bowl

Were the stoners, we have class

Fuck with us, well kick your ass

For all you preps, who think your cool

Think again, cause stoners rule

Stoners live, and stoners die

But In the end, we all get high

So when I die, burry me deep

With some bud, at my feet

And some papers, In my hand

So I can smoke my way, to wonderland.