Luyện nghe bài hát How High

Takin it from the
Tippy?
How
The Ultimate

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

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

While the planets and the stars and the moons
When I raise my trigga 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
more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch
Plus, the Bombazee got me
Fuckin' with us is a suicide

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

Fucka, we don't need no rap
I'd rather kick the facts and catch you the rapture
More than you for
Tical, that stays like an all night store

For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of steel
Pointed at your temple with the to kill
And end your existence,
no use for resistance, H-O-D

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

Your shit broke down, light flare
Since the dark side 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 shatter the glass and 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 dope when you payed for Billboard 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, Johnny Blaze, ain't a thing changed
How high? So that I can kiss the sky
How sick? So sick that you can suck my

'Til my man Ruckus come home
It ain't really on till the get, home
Puff a bone, now I'm off to the red zone
We need your 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
I got no love for the beast

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ask Biggie Smalls Shot Ya'
Funk doctor, the 12 Gauge Mossberg
Look, I got the like Rickle
To make mind tickle

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