Luyện nghe bài hát How High (Remix)

Takin' it the top?

Oh, my
it daddy
How high,
my mind
Where it gone before

[Incomprehensible] the high, baby
The ultimate

me as I kiss the sky
Sing a of six pence, a pocket full a rye
Who the fuck die for their culture
Stalk the body like a vulture, Tical get
Blacker your blackest stallion hit your house
I represent the Shaolin' my nigga
Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun
It be goin' down, diggy diggy down down down

the planets and the stars and the moons collapse
When I raise my finga all y'all niggaz hit the decks
'Cause no need for that, hustlers and hardcore
Raw to the raw like Reservoir Dogs
The Green-Eyed Bandit can't it
With more Fruitier Loops then Toucan Sam Bitch
Plus, the got me wild
with us is just 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 like glass jaws
Nigga, you got to get to get yours
Fucka, we need no rap tour
I'd rather the facts and catch you with the rap-true
More you bargained for
Tical, that stays open like an all 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 bees the rush to any nigga on dust
The Musk use to have me pull mad sluts
I shift like a clutch with the
Examine my nuts, I stop till I get enough
Your shit broke down, light your
the dark side tears you into 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 and second half on your monkey ass
And yo my man, hit me now
Bitches use to play me now cant forget me now
Forget me not, I the spot, check glock
off a lickin' 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, it's a
It's the funk Spock smokin' Buddha on a train
How So high that I can kiss the sky
How sick? So sick that you can suck my

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

my man Raider Ruckus come home
It ain't really on till the Ruckus get,
Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red
We don't your dirt weed we got our fuckin' own
Check it, I brings with my hectic
Bring the Pain screamin' for the antiseptic
Movin' on your kid, and I'm method, out my fuckin' dome piece
Plus I got no love for the beast, hailin' from the big Coast
Where niggaz pack toast home of the drug kingpins and cut

Hey boy, your's the boy on the block
You try and stop the bum rush you will get
As I run with a racist
My style was in the 50 stair cases
Dig it, ff a rap critic he about 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 cent, lyrics like Nico-chet
Rabbit, I havoc with an A-K matic
blunts an all day habit I get it on like Smif'n'Wes
Who clicks the best take a sip and test
Who split your the funk phenomenon
I'm bombin' you like Lebanon blow of Panama
off stamina

Styles not to be with, or played with
Fuck the pretty hoes, I love Section A Bit-ches
Hittin' switches, wigs with
Fat mathematical type scriptures
I dig up in planets like Diga
Boo, scared you, you to smithe-reens
Fuck the marines, I got
To light the spliff, and read Mad

I fly more than Continental
ya 5 times like US Air off an instrumental
Look I'm not a half way crook bad looks
But I may murder your like your name was Cal Brooks
I breaks em up ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'
Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge
Look, I got the tools like Rickle to make your tickle
For the nine

Yo Red, yo Red
ass pussy ass
You ain't say no more man, that's it
up Tical, We Out
It's