Luyện nghe bài hát How High (Remix)

Takin' it the top?

Oh, my
it daddy
How high,
Take my
Where it never before

[Incomprehensible] the high, baby
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 like a vulture, Tical get
Blacker than blackest stallion hit your house
Projects I represent the my nigga
yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow
It be goin' down, diggy down diggy down down

While the 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, and hardcore
Raw to the floor raw Reservoir Dogs
The Green-Eyed can't stand it
With more Fruitier Loops that Toucan Sam Bitch
Plus, the Bombazee got me
Fuckin' with us is just suicide

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2 murder 1 lyric at door
Tical bring 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 and catch you with the rap-true
More you bargained for
Tical, that stays like an all nite store
For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue
at your temple with the intent to kill
And end existence, M E T
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 like a with the Ruck
Examine my nuts, I don't stop till I get
Your shit down, light your flare
Since the dark side tears you into Hollywood
6 ways 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 half on your monkey ass
And yo my man, hit me now
Bitches use to play me now they cant 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 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 it's a plane
Recognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a thing changed
How high? So high I can kiss the sky
How So sick that you can suck my dick

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

Hey boy, your's the rude boy on the
You try and stop the bum rush you will get
As I run around with a
My style was born in the 50 cases
Dig it, ff a rap critic 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 cent, bang like Nico-chet
Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K
Rollin blunts an all day habit I get it on Smif'n'Wes
Who clicks the punks take a sip and test
Who split vest the funk phenomenon
I'm bombin' you Lebanon blow canals of Panama
Just off

Styles not to be with, or played with
Fuck the hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches
Hittin' switches, Twistin' wigs
Fat radical mathematical type
I dig up in your planets like
Boo, scared you, blew you to
the marines, I got machines
To light the spliff, and read Mad

I fly more heads than
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 breaks em up proppa ask Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'
Funk doctor, with the 12 Mossberg
Look, I got the tools like Rickle to your mind tickle
For the nine

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