Luyện nghe bài hát How High (Part 2)

Takin it the top?
Tippy?
How
The high

me as I kiss the sky
Sing a of six pence, a pocket full a rye
Who the fuck wanna die for culture?
the dead body like a vulture

Tical get, blacker your blackest stallion
Hit your projects, I represent the Shaolin my nigga
Hell yes, Now', the gun blow
It be goin' down, diggy diggy down diggy down

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

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

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

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

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 the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust
The Egyptian Musk use to me pull mad sluts
I shift a clutch with the Ruck
Examine my nuts, I stop till I get enough

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

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

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

Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a
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

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

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

Hailin' the big East Coast
Where pack 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 stair
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, bang like rico-chet
Rabbit, I brings with an A-K matic
Rollin' an all day habit

I get it on like
Punks take a sip and
Who your vest
The funk

I'm bombin' you Lebanon
Blow canals of
off stamina
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 your like Diga

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

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

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

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)