Luyện nghe bài hát How High

Takin it the top?
Tippy?
How
The Ultimate

me as I kiss the sky
Sing a song of six pence, a pocket a rye
Who the fuck wanna die for culture?
Stalk the body like a vulture

Tical get, blacker than blackest stallion
Hit your house'n projects, I represent the Shaolin my
Hell yes, 'Apocalypse Now', the gun
It be goin' down, diggy diggy down down down

the planets and the stars and the moons collapse
When I my trigga finga all y'all niggaz hit the decks
'Cause ain't no need for that, and hardcores
Raw to the floor raw like Dogs

The Green-Eyed Bandit stand it
With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam
Plus, the got me wild
Fuckin' with us is a suicide

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 Murder 1, lyric at door
Tical bring it to ass raw
all the rules like glass jaws
Nigga, you got to get mine to get

Fucka, we need no rap tour
I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the
More you bargained for
Tical, that stays open an all night store

For real, I keeps it ill like a of blue steel
Pointed at your with the intent to kill
And end your existence,
Ain't no use for resistance,

I the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust
The Musk use to have me pull mad sluts
I shift like a clutch with the
Examine my nuts, I don't till I get enough

Your shit broke down, light flare
Since the dark tears you into Hollywood squares
6 million ways to die, so I
it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed

The blindfold, cold, so you can the rap
And the glass and second half on your monkey ass
And yo my man, hit me now
(Tical)
Bitches use to play me, now can't forget me now

Forget me not, I rock the spot, glock
off a lickin' off a hip hop
Fuck the billboard, I'm a on my block
How you when you payed for your Billboard spot?

Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a
It's the funk doctor smokin' Buddha on a train
How high? So high I can kiss the sky
How sick? So that you can suck my dick

Look up in the sky it's a it's a plane
Recognize, Johnny Blaze, a damn thing changed
How high? So high that I can the sky
How So sick that you can suck my dick

'Til my man Raider come home
It ain't really on till the get, home
Puff a bone, now I'm off to the red zone
We don't need dirt weed we got a fuckin' O

Check it, I brings havoc with my
the Pain lyrics screamin' for the antiseptic
Movin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin' dome
Plus I got no love for the

Hailin' the big East Coast
Where pack toast
of the drug kingpins and cut throats
(Hey boy, you's the boy on the block)
(You try and the bum rush you will get popped)
As I run with a racist

My style was in the 50 stair cases
Dig it, eff a rap
He talk it while I live it
If Red got the blunt, I'm the one to hit it

Look up in the, I got the verbs, and glocks in ya
Enter the centa, bang like rico-chet
Rabbit, I havoc with an A-K matic
Rollin' blunts an all day

I get it on Smif'n'Wes
take a sip and test
Who your vest
The phenomenon

I'm bombin' you Lebanon
Blow of Panama
Just off
Styles not to be with, or played with

Fuck the pretty hoes, I those, Section A Bitches
Hittin' switches, twistin' with
Fat radical type scriptures
I dig up in your planets Diga

Boo, scared you, blew you to
the marines, I got machines
To the spliff, and read Mad magazine
I fly more heads Continental

Wreck ya 5 like US AIR off an instrumental
I'm not a half way crook with bad looks
But I may murder case like your name was Cal Brooks
I 'em up proppa

Ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Ya'
Funk doctor, with the 12 Mossberg
Look, I got the like Rickle
To your mind tickle

For the nickle
(Yo Red, yo Red)
Punk ass ass
(You ain't gotta say no more man, it)
up Tical, we out
(It's over)