Luyện nghe bài hát How High (Remix)

Takin it the top?
Tippy?
How
The Ultimate

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

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

While the planets and the stars and the collapse
When I my trigga finga all y'all niggaz hit the decks
ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcores
Raw to the raw like Reservoir Dogs

The Green-Eyed can't stand it
With more Fruitier Loops then Toucan Sam Bitch
Plus, the Bombazee got me
Fuckin' with us is a suicide

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 Murder 1, lyric at door
Tical it to that ass raw
Breakin' all the rules like jaws
Nigga, you got to get mine to get

Fucka, we don't no rap tour
I'd rather kick the and catch you with the rapture
More you bargained for
Tical, that stays open like an all store

For real, I keeps it ill a piece of blue steel
Pointed at your with the intent to kill
And end your existence,
Ain't no use for resistance,

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

Your shit broke down, light your
the dark side tears you into 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 and second half on your monkey ass
And yo my man, hit me now
(Tical)
Bitches use to me, now they can't 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 payed for your Billboard

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

Look up in the sky it's a bird a plane
Recognize, Johnny Blaze, a damn thing changed
How high? So that I can kiss the sky
How sick? So that you can suck my dick

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

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

from the big East Coast
Where niggaz pack
Home of the drug and cut throats
(Hey boy, the rude boy on the block)
(You try and stop the bum rush you get popped)
As I run with a racist

My style was born in the 50 stair
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, lyrics bang rico-chet
Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K
blunts an all day habit

I get it on like
Punks a sip and test
Who your vest
The phenomenon

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

Fuck the pretty hoes, I those, Section A Bitches
Hittin' switches, wigs with
Fat mathematical type scriptures
I dig up in your planets like

Boo, scared you, blew you to
the marines, I got machines
To the spliff, and read Mad magazine
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 case like name was Cal Brooks
I breaks 'em up

Ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Ya'
Funk doctor, the 12 Gauge Mossberg
Look, I got the tools Rickle
To make your tickle

For the nine
(Yo Red, yo Red)
Punk ass ass
(You ain't gotta say no more man, it)
up Tical, we out
(It's over)