Luyện nghe bài hát How High (Remix)

Takin it from the
Tippy?
How
The high

me as I kiss the sky
Sing a of six pence, a pocket full a rye
Who the fuck die for their culture?
Stalk the dead body a vulture

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

the planets 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, hustlers and
Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir

The Green-Eyed Bandit can't it
With Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch
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
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 facts and you with the rapture
than you bargained for
Tical, that open like an all night store

For real, I it ill like a piece of blue steel
Pointed at your temple with the to kill
And end existence, M-E-T
no use for resistance, H-O-D

I bees the rush to any nigga on dust
The Egyptian Musk use to have me mad sluts
I like a clutch with the Ruck
my nuts, I don't stop till I get enough

Your shit broke down, light your
Since the dark side tears you into squares
6 ways 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 on your monkey ass
And yo my man, hit me now
(Tical)
Bitches use to play me, now they can't 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 payed for your spot?

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

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

my man Raider Ruckus come home
It really on till the Ruckus get, home
a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone
We don't need your dirt weed we got a O

Check it, I brings havoc with my
Bring the lyrics screamin' for the antiseptic
Movin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin' dome
I got no love for the beast

Hailin' from the big Coast
Where pack toast
Home of the kingpins and cut throats
(Hey boy, the rude boy on the block)
(You try and stop the bum you will get popped)
As I run around with a

My style was born in the 50 cases
Dig it, eff a rap
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 rico-chet
Rabbit, I brings with an A-K matic
Rollin' blunts an all day

I get it on Smif'n'Wes
Punks take a sip and
Who your vest
The funk

I'm bombin' you like
Blow canals of
Just off
Styles not to be with, or played with

Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those, Section A
Hittin' switches, twistin' wigs
Fat radical mathematical scriptures
I dig up in your planets Diga

Boo, scared you, you to smithereens
Fuck the marines, I got
To the spliff, and read Mad magazine
I fly more than Continental

Wreck ya 5 like US AIR off an instrumental
Look I'm not a half way crook with bad
But I may your case like your name was Cal Brooks
I breaks 'em up

Ask Biggie 'Who Shot Ya'
Funk doctor, with the 12 Mossberg
Look, I got the tools like
To make your mind

For the nickle
(Yo Red, yo Red)
ass pussy ass
(You gotta say no more man, that's it)
up Tical, we out
(It's over)