Quote Originally Posted by buddymyfriend
I went to meet my herb man last night. He turns up in his motor and pulls into the layby by my block of local shops. I get into the passenger seat as usual and do the 'chit chat'. My mans rumaging around under his under seat trying to find his stash. Now lets paint the picture, my man looks like Beanie Man only a lil skinnier and shorter. There's reggae blaring out of the windows and into the icey cold night. His joint is burning slowly between his long spinndly fingers, a sweet aromatic smell of hashish is filling the car. When he shouts in the thickest accent ' Two Rarse Boombaclut' - not sure of spelling or meaning but i could tell he wasn't happy. He was sooo high he forgot to bring his stash!! He didnt have anything with him to sell me! He asked me if i wanted to wait at the shops or come for the ride into town, back to his and pick up his stash. I agreed to go with a jammed to his old school reggae, chatted about life n shit, smoked his jay and got a gram extra for the hassle. No hassle really cruisin around town withg your herb man!

Funny times

Peace

Buddy
I'm sorry and i might be blind but what the fuck does that that story have to do about smoking profits?