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?
Stalk the dead body like a

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

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

The Green-Eyed can't stand it
With more Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch
Plus, the Bombazee got me
Fuckin' us is a straight suicide

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

Fucka, we don't need no rap
I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the
than you bargained for
Tical, that stays open 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 existence, M-E-T
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 like a clutch the Ruck
Examine my nuts, I don't till I get enough

Your shit broke down, your flare
Since the dark side you into Hollywood squares
6 million to die, so I chose
Made it 6 and 1 with your eyes closed

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 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 bullet on my
How you dope when you payed for Billboard spot?

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

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

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

Hailin' from the big East
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 a racist

My style was born in the 50 cases
Dig it, eff a rap
He talk it while 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 like rico-chet
Rabbit, I brings havoc an A-K matic
blunts an all day habit

I get it on like
Punks a sip and test
Who your vest
The phenomenon

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

the pretty hoes, I love those, Section A Bitches
Hittin' switches, twistin' wigs
Fat radical mathematical type
I dig up in your like Diga

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

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

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

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