Luyện nghe bài hát How High (Part 2)

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 fuck wanna die for culture?
Stalk the dead body 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 down diggy down down

While the 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 like Reservoir

The Bandit can't stand it
With more Fruitier Loops that Toucan 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 your
Tical it to that ass raw
all the rules like glass jaws
Nigga, you got to get to get yours

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

For real, I keeps it ill like a of blue steel
Pointed at your temple with the 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 shift 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 tears you into squares
6 million to die, so I chose
Made it 6 million and 1 your eyes closed

The blindfold, cold, so you can the rap
And shatter the glass and second 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 the spot, check glock
Empty off a off a hip hop
Fuck the billboard, I'm a on my block
How you dope you payed for your Billboard spot?

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

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

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

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

My style was born in the 50 stair
Dig it, eff a rap
He talk about it while I 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' an all day habit

I get it on Smif'n'Wes
Punks take a sip and
Who split your
The funk

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

Fuck the hoes, I love those, Section A Bitches
Hittin' switches, wigs with
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 heads than Continental

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

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

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