Luyện nghe bài hát How High (remix)

Takin' it from the Tippy? Tippy?
How The ultimate high

'Scuse me, as I the sky
Sing a song of six pence, a full a rye
Who the fuck die for their culture
Stalk the dead like a vulture

Tical get, than your blackest stallion
Hit house'n projects, I represent the Shaolin my nigga
Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun
It be down, diggy diggy down diggy down down

the planets and the stars and the moons collapse
When I raise my trigga finga all y'all niggaz hit the
'Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and
Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir

The green-eyed bandit stand it
With more Fruitier Loops that Toucan Sam Bitch
Plus, the got me wild
Fuckin' with us is a 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 don't no rap tour
I'd rather kick the and catch you with the rapture

than you bargained for
Tical, that stays open like an all nite
For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue
Pointed at temple with the intent to kill
And end your existence, M E T, no use for resistance, H O D

I bees the ultimate rush to any on dust
The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad
I shift a clutch with the Ruck
Examine my nuts, I don't till I get enough

Your broke down, light your flare
the dark side tears you into Hollywood squares
6 million to die, so I chose
Made it 6 million and 1 your eyes closed

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 play me now they cant me now

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

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

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

'Til my man Ruckus come home
It ain't on till the Ruckus get, home
a methbone, now I'm off to the red zone
We don't need your weed we got a fuckin' own

it, I brings havoc with my hectic
Bring the Pain lyrics screamin' for the
Movin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my dome piece
Plus I got no love for the beast, from the big East Coast

Where pack toast
Home of the drug and cut throats
(Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the
You try and the bum rush you will get popped)

As I run around a racist
My style was born in the 50 stair
Dig it, eff a rap critic, he talk about it while I 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 ricochet
Rabbit, I havoc with an AK- matic
Rollin' blunts an all day

I get it on Smif'n'Wes
take a sip and test, who split your vest
The phenomenon, I'm bombin' you like Lebanon
Blow canals of Panama, off stamina
Styles not to be with, or played with
the pretty hoes, I love those section A bitches

Hittin' switches, wigs with
Fat radical mathematical scriptures
I dig up in your like Diga,
Boo, you, blew you to smithe-reens
the marines, I got machines
To light the spliff, and read Mad

I fly more heads Continental
ya 5 times like US AIR off an instrumental
Look I'm not a way crook with bad looks
But I may murder your case like name was Cal Brooks
I breaks 'em up proppa, ask Biggie Smalls, Who Ya?
Funk doctor, with the 12 gauge

Look, I got the tools like rickle, to make mind tickle
For the nine
(Yo Red, yo Red)
Punk ass, ass
(You gotta say no more man, that's it)
up Tical, we out
(It's over)