Luyện nghe bài hát How High (Remix)

Takin' it the top?

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

[Incomprehensible] the high, baby
The high

me as I kiss the sky
Sing a song of six pence, a full a rye
Who the fuck wanna die for culture
the dead body like a vulture, Tical get
Blacker than your blackest hit your house
Projects I represent the my nigga
Hell yes, now, the gun blow
It be goin' down, diggy down diggy down down

While the planets and the stars and the collapse
When I raise my trigga finga all y'all hit the decks
'Cause ain't no for that, hustlers and hardcore
Raw to the floor raw like Dogs
The Green-Eyed can't stand it
With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam
Plus, the got me wild
Fuckin' us is just straight suicide

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2 murder 1 at your door
Tical bring it to that ass raw breakin' all the like glass jaws
Nigga, you got to get to get yours
Fucka, we don't need no rap
I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the
More you bargained for
Tical, that open like an all nite store
For real, I it ill like a piece of blue steel
Pointed at your temple 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 like a clutch with the Ruck
Examine my nuts, I don't stop I get enough
Your shit down, light your flare
Since the dark side you into Hollywood Squares
6 million ways to die, so I
Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes

The blindfold, cold, so you can the rap
And shatter the glass and second half on monkey ass
And yo my man, hit me now
Bitches use to me now they 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 when you payed for billboard spot?

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

Look up in the sky it's a it's a plane
Recognize, Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed
How So high that I can kiss the sky
How So sick that 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 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, hailin' the big East Coast
Where niggaz pack toast of the drug kingpins and cut throats

Hey boy, the rude boy on the block
You try and the bum rush you will get popped
As I run around with a
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

Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and in ya
the cent, lyrics bang like Nico-chet
Rabbit, I havoc with an A-K matic
Rollin blunts an all day habit I get it on like
Who clicks the best punks a sip and test
Who split your the funk phenomenon
I'm bombin' you like blow canals of Panama
Just off

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

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

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