Luyện nghe bài hát How High (Part 2)

Takin it the top?
Tippy?
How
The Ultimate

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

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

the planets and the stars and the moons collapse
When I raise my trigga finga 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 that Toucan Sam Bitch
Plus, the got me wild
with us is a straight suicide

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

Fucka, we need no rap tour
I'd rather kick the facts and catch you the rapture
More you bargained for
Tical, that stays like an all night store

For real, I it ill like a piece of blue steel
Pointed at your temple with the to kill
And end your existence,
Ain't no use for resistance,

I the ultimate 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 I get enough

Your shit broke down, light flare
Since the dark side tears you Hollywood squares
6 million to die, so I chose
Made it 6 million and 1 with your 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 play me, now they forget me now

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

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

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

'Til my man Ruckus come home
It ain't really on 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
Movin' on your kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin' dome piece
Plus I got no for the beast

Hailin' the big East Coast
Where niggaz pack
of the drug kingpins and cut throats
(Hey boy, you's the 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 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

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

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

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

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

Boo, you, blew you to smithereens
Fuck the marines, I got
To light the spliff, and read Mad
I fly more heads Continental

Wreck ya 5 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 'Who Ya'
Funk doctor, the 12 Gauge Mossberg
Look, I got the tools like
To make your mind

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