Luyện nghe bài hát How High

Takin it from the
Tippy?
How
The Ultimate

'Scuse me as I the sky
Sing a song of six pence, a full a rye
Who the wanna die for their culture?
Stalk the dead body a vulture

Tical get, than your 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 diggy down

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

The Green-Eyed can't stand it
With Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch
Plus, the Bombazee got me
with us is a straight suicide

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

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

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

I bees the rush to any nigga on dust
The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad
I shift a clutch with the Ruck
Examine my nuts, I don't stop I get enough

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

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 me, now they can't forget me now

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

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

Look up in the sky a bird it's a plane
Recognize, Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed
How So high that I can kiss the sky
How So sick that you can suck my dick

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

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

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

My style was born in the 50 cases
Dig it, eff a rap
He talk about it 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, lyrics like rico-chet
Rabbit, I brings with an A-K matic
blunts an all day habit

I get it on like
Punks take a sip and
Who split your
The phenomenon

I'm bombin' you like
Blow canals of
off stamina
Styles not to be fucked with, or with

Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those, A Bitches
Hittin' switches, wigs with
Fat radical type scriptures
I dig up in your planets like

Boo, scared you, you to smithereens
the marines, I got machines
To light the spliff, and read Mad
I fly heads than Continental

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

Ask Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'
Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge
Look, I got the tools Rickle
To make mind tickle

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