Luyện nghe bài hát How High (remix)

Takin' it from the Tippy? 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 body like a

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

While the planets and the stars and the moons
I raise my trigga finga all y'all niggaz hit the decks
'Cause no need for that, hustlers and hardcores
Raw to the raw like Reservoir Dogs

The green-eyed can't stand it
With more Loops then 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 at your door
Tical bring it to that ass raw, breakin' all the rules like glass
Nigga, you got to get to get yours
Fucka, we need no rap tour
I'd rather kick the and catch you with the rapture

More than you for
Tical, that open like an all nite store
For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of steel
Pointed at your temple with the intent to
And end existence, M E T, ain'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 like a clutch with the
Examine my nuts, I don't stop I get enough

shit broke down, light your flare
Since the side tears you into Hollywood squares
6 ways to die, so I chose
Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes

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

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, a plane
the funk doctor Spock smokin' buddha on a train
How high? So high that I can the sky
How sick? So sick that you can suck my

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

'Til my man Ruckus 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 we got a fuckin' own

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

niggaz pack toast
Home of the drug kingpins and cut
(Hey boy, you's the boy on the block
You try and stop the bum rush you get popped)

As I run around a racist
My style was born in the 50 cases
Dig it, eff 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, and glocks in ya
Enter the centa, lyrics like ricochet
Rabbit, I brings havoc an AK- matic
Rollin' blunts an all day

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

Hittin' switches, wigs with
Fat radical mathematical scriptures
I dig up in your like Diga,
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
I'm not a half way crook with bad looks
But I may murder your 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 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 over)