Luyện nghe bài hát How High (Part 2)

Takin it from the
Tippy?
How
The high

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

Tical get, blacker your blackest stallion
Hit house'n projects, I represent the Shaolin my nigga
yes, 'Apocalypse Now', the gun blow
It be down, diggy diggy down diggy 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, hustlers and
Raw to the floor raw Reservoir Dogs

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

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 Murder 1, lyric at door
Tical it to that ass raw
all the rules like 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 you bargained for
Tical, that stays like an all night store

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

I bees the rush to any nigga 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 I get enough

Your shit broke down, light flare
Since the dark side tears you Hollywood squares
6 million to die, so I chose
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 they forget me now

me not, I rock the spot, check glock
Empty off a off a hip hop
Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my
How you dope when you payed for your Billboard

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

up in the sky it's 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 you can suck my dick

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

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

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

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

Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and in ya
the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet
Rabbit, I brings with an A-K matic
Rollin' an all day habit

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

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

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

Boo, scared you, you to smithereens
Fuck the marines, I got
To light the spliff, and Mad magazine
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 breaks 'em up

Ask Biggie Smalls Shot Ya'
Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge
Look, I got the tools like
To make your mind

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)