Luyện nghe bài hát How High (remix)

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

me, as I kiss the sky
Sing a song of six pence, a pocket a rye
Who the wanna die for their culture
Stalk the dead like a vulture

Tical get, blacker than your blackest
Hit your projects, I represent the Shaolin my nigga
Hell yes, now, the gun blow
It be goin' down, diggy diggy diggy down down

While the and the stars and the moons collapse
When I raise my finga all y'all niggaz hit the decks
'Cause ain't no need for that, and hardcores
Raw to the floor raw like Dogs

The green-eyed can't stand it
With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam
Plus, the Bombazee got me
with us is a straight suicide

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 lyric 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 need no rap tour
I'd rather kick the facts and catch you the rapture

More than you for
Tical, that stays like an all nite store
For real, I it ill like a piece of blue steel
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 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 down, light your flare
Since the dark side tears you Hollywood squares
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 cant forget 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 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 that you can suck my dick

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

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

Check it, I havoc with my hectic
Bring the Pain lyrics for the antiseptic
Movin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin' piece
Plus I got no for the beast, hailin' from the big East Coast

Where niggaz toast
Home of the kingpins 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 with a
My style was born in the 50 stair
Dig it, eff a rap critic, he talk 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 centa, bang like ricochet
Rabbit, I brings with an AK- matic
Rollin' blunts an all day

I get it on Smif'n'Wes
Punks take a sip and test, who split your
The phenomenon, I'm bombin' you like Lebanon
canals of Panama, just 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 type scriptures
I dig up in your like Diga,
Boo, scared you, you to smithe-reens
Fuck the marines, I got
To light the spliff, and Mad magazine

I fly heads than Continental
Wreck ya 5 times like US AIR off an
Look I'm not a half way with bad looks
But I may murder your case like your 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 say no more man, that's it)
up Tical, we out
(It's over)