Luyện nghe bài hát How High (Remix)

Takin' it from the

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

[Incomprehensible] the ultimate high,
The ultimate

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

the planets and the stars and the moons collapse
When I my trigga finga all y'all niggaz hit the decks
'Cause ain't no need for that, and hardcore
Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir
The Green-Eyed Bandit stand it
With more Fruitier Loops then that Sam Bitch
Plus, the Bombazee got me
Fuckin' with us is just straight

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 kick the and catch you with the rap-true
than you bargained for
Tical, that stays open like an all store
For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of steel
Pointed at your temple 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 use to have me pull mad sluts
I shift like a with the Ruck
Examine my nuts, I stop till I get enough
Your shit broke down, light flare
Since the dark side tears you into Hollywood
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 glass and half on your monkey ass
And yo my man, hit me now
Bitches use to play me now they cant me now
me not, I rock the spot, check glock
Empty off a off a hip hop
the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block
How you dope when you payed for your spot?

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

Till my man Raider Ruckus home
It ain't really on till the get, home
a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone
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 left kid, and I'm method, out my dome 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 stop the bum rush you will get
As I run around a racist
My style was in the 50 stair cases
Dig it, ff a rap critic he talk about it while I 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
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 punks a sip and test
Who your vest the funk phenomenon
I'm bombin' you like Lebanon canals of Panama
Just off

not to be fucked with, or played with
Fuck the hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches
Hittin' switches, Twistin' wigs
Fat radical mathematical scriptures
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 Continental
Wreck ya 5 like US Air off an instrumental
I'm not a half way crook with bad looks
But I may murder your case like name was Cal Brooks
I breaks em up ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'
Funk doctor, the 12 Gauge Mossberg
Look, I got the tools like Rickle to make mind tickle
For the nickle

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