Luyện nghe bài hát How High (Remix)

Takin it the top?
Tippy?
How
The Ultimate

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

get, blacker than your blackest stallion
Hit your house'n projects, I represent the 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, and hardcores
Raw to the raw like Reservoir Dogs

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

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

Fucka, we need no rap tour
I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the
More than you for
Tical, that stays 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,
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
Examine my nuts, I don't till I get enough

shit broke down, light your flare
Since the dark tears you into Hollywood squares
6 million ways to die, so I
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 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 payed for your Billboard

Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a
the funk doctor spock smokin' Buddha 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 thing changed
How high? So high that I can the sky
How sick? So sick that you can my dick

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

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

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

My style was 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, nouns and in ya
Enter the centa, 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 vest
The phenomenon

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, A Bitches
Hittin' switches, wigs with
Fat radical mathematical scriptures
I dig up in your planets Diga

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
Look I'm not a half way crook with bad
But I may murder case like your name was Cal Brooks
I 'em up proppa

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

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