Luyện nghe bài hát How High (Remix)

Takin it from the
Tippy?
How
The Ultimate

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

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

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

The Green-Eyed Bandit can't it
With more Fruitier 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 Murder 1, at your door
Tical it to that ass raw
Breakin' all the rules glass jaws
Nigga, you got to get to get yours

Fucka, we need no rap tour
I'd rather the facts and catch you with the rapture
More than you for
Tical, that open like an all night store

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

I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on
The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad
I shift like a clutch the Ruck
Examine my nuts, I stop till I get enough

shit broke down, light your flare
Since the dark side you into Hollywood squares
6 million 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 half on your monkey ass
And yo my man, hit me now
(Tical)
Bitches use to me, now they can't 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, it's a
It's the funk doctor smokin' Buddha on a train
How high? So high I can kiss the sky
How sick? So sick that you can suck my

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

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

Check it, I brings havoc my hectic
Bring the 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

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

My was born in the 50 stair cases
Dig it, eff a rap
He talk about it 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
the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet
Rabbit, I havoc with an A-K matic
Rollin' an all day habit

I get it on like
take a sip and test
Who your vest
The funk

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

Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those, Section A
Hittin' switches, twistin' wigs
Fat mathematical type scriptures
I dig up in planets 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
Look I'm not a half way crook bad looks
But I may murder your case like name was Cal Brooks
I 'em up proppa

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

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