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 full a rye
Who the fuck wanna die for their
Stalk the dead body a vulture

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

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

The Green-Eyed Bandit 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, lyric at door
Tical it to that ass raw
all the rules like glass jaws
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
More you bargained for
Tical, that stays open like an all night

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

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

shit broke down, light your flare
Since the dark side tears you into squares
6 ways to die, so I chose
Made it 6 million and 1 with your 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 play me, now they forget me now

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

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

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

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

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

Hailin' 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 with a racist

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

Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and in ya
the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet
Rabbit, I havoc with an A-K matic
blunts an all day habit

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

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

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

Boo, scared you, blew you to
the marines, I got machines
To light the spliff, and Mad magazine
I fly heads 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 'em up proppa

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

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