As much as I try to quit smoking Swisher blunts, I just can’t. It’s in my DNA. A regular swish, one gram of weed preferably Gorilla Glue #4, a car with a CD player and I can fly away. Today my soundtrack is going to be that Slime Language mixtape by Young Thug. Young Thug’s label is named, “Young Stoner Lifestyle or YSL.” The label’s artists display a lifestyle of smoking weed and making music, which go hand-in-hand. Most likely Thug smokes backwoods or fronto leafs, a more natural tobacco leaf in comparison to the more syntheswisher. My roommate smokes nothing but these style blunts on the daily. He swore he would never smoke another Swisher again. The leaf wraps are little bit stronger, supply a heavier high and burn slow, but are flimsy and don’t last as long because the end will become resonated and clogged. Backwoods are also way more expensive. A regular swisher is ninety-nine cents for one, a pack of five backwoods is ten dollars and it’s hard to find them individually.
Besides, they’re also hard as fuck to roll. It took me years just to master rolling a swisher, but this is way beyond that — it requires scissors and at least two grams of weed if you want a legit experience. I remember my big homie Prez telling me about how it felt like an art project rolling up a wood. The “woods” have been popularized recently by the rap community. Before this, swishers were the norm. I personally think the change came when people like me, rappers who smoke blunts on a daily basis started to realize that swishers have glue on them to make them stick. They are also full of chemicals which make them very unhealthy to smoke. After smoking the night before, I wake up in the morning and spit out excessive amounts of glue like phlegm which seems to be sitting in the bottom of my lungs. When I work out I feel the chemical effect of every swisher I ever smoked throughout my body. Yet, I’m still hitting up the Holiday for the two packs and mobbin’ while I put on the hottest sounds for my ears to absorb.
I’ve attempted the alternatives. I love smoking raw cones. It’s a clearer high but they burn fast. I can’t roll a wood. I roll them way too loose. The best alternative I found were an all-natural, pre-rolled tobacco leaf you can find sold at the local dispensaries, called “King Palm.” The King Palm is sort of like a cone; it features a wooden crutch and a stuffer to pack the weed in it. They burn great and have that luxurious feeling of a cigar. Only problem is they are four bucks a piece. So once again, I find myself leaving the house to go retrieve a sweet, even after I smoked a bowl, a couple jays, and hit a dab. It’s just what I do. I’ve been crafting this equation patiently in East Anchorage as these rituals were handed down from street legends to lucky souls like me that understand what it is to really do your own thing. It’s a formula I’ve been tweaking and perfecting for years, finding the perfect solitude between myself and time. Smoke and sound being the catalyst to take us away and blur the line between our physical and metaphysical realities. This is the hot box.