Luyện nghe bài hát How High (Part 2)

Takin it from the
Tippy?
How
The high

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
yes, 'Apocalypse Now', the gun blow
It be down, diggy diggy down diggy down down

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

The Green-Eyed Bandit can't it
With more Fruitier Loops that Toucan Sam Bitch
Plus, the got me wild
Fuckin' with us is a straight

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Til my man Ruckus come home
It ain't really on till the Ruckus get,
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' piece
Plus I got no love for the

from the big East Coast
Where pack 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 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 bang rico-chet
Rabbit, I havoc with an A-K matic
Rollin' blunts an all day

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

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

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

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

Wreck ya 5 times like US AIR off an
Look I'm not a way crook with bad looks
But I may murder your case like your 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 mind

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