In Irish mythology Goibniu (Old Irish, pronounced ˈɡovʲnʲu) or Gaibhne (Modern Irish) was the smith of the Tuatha Dé Danann. He is believed to have been a smithing god and is also associated with hospitality.
The name of his father appears as Esarg or Tuirbe Trágmar, the 'thrower of axes'. Goibniu is often grouped together with Credne the silversmith and Luchta the carpenter as the Trí Dée Dána (three gods of art), who forged the weapons which the Tuath Dé used to battle the Fomorians. Alternatively, he is grouped with Credne and Dian Cecht the physician. When Nuada's arm is cut off in battle, Goibniu crafts him a new one of silver. He also makes weapons for the gods. In the Lebor Gabála Érenn, he is described as "not impotent in smelting", and is said to have died, along with Dian Cecht, of a "painful plague".
Goibniu also acts as a hospitaller who furnishes feasts for the gods. According to Altram Tige Dá Medar, the feast of Goibniu protected the Tuatha Dé from sickness and old age. He is said to be owner of the Glas Gaibhnenn, the magical cow of abundance. In the St Gall incantations, he is invoked against thorns, alongside Dian Cecht.
Living life, money mean the world
Higher than a kite, I'm higher than a fly
Used to burn reggie, not the gang got my rights
Belt looking like I'm Babe Ruth, bet I won't strike
All-star gang George, that's when I'm blowing
Astral plane, damn right, shit puffing
Get this hoes open, ask some crazy questions
Tongue stroke it, smell it when it's open
Yeah, it's just something I love
Spinning vanilla dutches with different color buds
You can light it, smoke it, fill it, tone it
Roll this shit right and you can be roasting
Yeah, we still here rockin', this is DJ Smoky lot
Hey, I like this shit man, I like this shit, man
I like this shit
I'm a stoner like a hippie, I fell in love with trippy
In '99 but now I'm on a sour D sticky, got to happen
A new addition, I call it Ricky
I'mma tight the roller cone up and throw in a 50
With a little bit of leaf from a marijuana chief
Win a lot, get the paper, sex in between the sheets
I twist the top of the class, I made the honor roll
I won the heist, man, not the chronic bow
You know that medical smell soon as you pop the top
I'm on a space state, baby, captain Kirk got the spot
Capone hate it, baby,
I'm a big bamboo roll, this the bong
This was smoking in the hallway or spin in the yard
Rank in out in a robe, wait
I smoke till my eyes bloody red, hoe
Laid up, let the stress go
Yeah, Smoky right back at you motherfuckers with a big, fat joint
We gonna roll up behind the plain right now, we keeping lifted
Capone and young Haiti
Could these motherfuckers smoke like a motherfucker? Motherfucker
Hey yo pass my shit