How High (remix)
๐ต 4212 characters
โฑ๏ธ 3:57 duration
๐ ID: 26611486
๐ Lyrics
Takin it from the top?
Tippy? Tippy?
How High?...
The Ultimate High...
'Scuse me as I kiss the sky
Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye
Who the fuck wanna die for their culture
Stalk the dead body like a vulture
Tical get, hmmm
Blacker than your blackest stallion
Hit your house'n projects
I represent the Shaolin my nigga
Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow
It be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down
While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse
When I raise my trigga finga all yall niggaz hit the decks!
Cause aint no need for that, hustlers and hardcores
Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs
The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it
With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch
Plus, the Bombazee got me wild
(Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide
Three two Murder one lyric at your door
Tical bring it to that ass raw
Breakin all the rules like glass jaws
Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours
Fucka, we don't need no rap tour
I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture
More than you bargained for
Tical, that stays open like an all nite store
For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel
Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill
And end your existance, M-E-T
Aint no use for resistance, H-O-D
I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust
The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts
I shift like a clutch with the Ruck
Examine my nuts, I dont stop 'till I get enough
Your shit broke down, light your flare
Since the darkside tears you into hollywood squares
Six million ways to die, so I chose
Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed
The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap
And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass
And yo my man (Tical) hit me now
Bitches use to play me now they can't forget me now
Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock
Empty off a lickin off a hip hop
Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block
How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot?
Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane
It's the funk doctor spock
Smokin buddha on a train
How high? So high that I can kiss the sky
How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick
Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane
Recognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed
How high? So High that I can kiss the sky
How sick? So Sick that you can suck my dick
Til my man Raider Ruckus come home
It ain't really on 'till the Ruckus get, home
Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone
We don't need yo dirt, we, we got our fuckin own
Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic
Bring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic
Movin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin dome piece
Plus I got no love for the beast
Hailin from the big East Coast
Where niggaz pack toast
Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats
(Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block
You try and stop the bum rush you will get popped)
As I run around with a racist
My style was born in the 50 stair cases
Dig it, eff a rap critic
He talk about it while I live it
If Red got the blunt, Im the second one to hit it
Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya
Enter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet
Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic
Rollin' blunts an all day habit
I get it on like Smiff and Wess
Who clicks the best
Punks take a sip and test
Who split your vest
The funk phenomenon
I'm bombin you like Lebanon
Blow canals of Panama
Just off stamina
Styles not to be fucked with, or played with
Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches
Hittin switches, Twistin wigs with
Fat radical mathematical type scriptures
I dig up in your planets like Diga,
Boo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens
Fuck the marines, I got machines
To light the spliff, and read Mad magazine
I fly more heads than Continental
Wreck ya five times like US AIR off an instrumental
Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks
But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks
I breaks em up proppa
Ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'
Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg
Look, I got the tools like Rickle
To make your mind tickle
For the nine nickle
(Yo Red, yo Red!)
Punk ass pussy ass
(You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it)
Tippy? Tippy?
How High?...
The Ultimate High...
'Scuse me as I kiss the sky
Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye
Who the fuck wanna die for their culture
Stalk the dead body like a vulture
Tical get, hmmm
Blacker than your blackest stallion
Hit your house'n projects
I represent the Shaolin my nigga
Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow
It be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down
While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse
When I raise my trigga finga all yall niggaz hit the decks!
Cause aint no need for that, hustlers and hardcores
Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs
The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it
With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch
Plus, the Bombazee got me wild
(Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide
Three two Murder one lyric at your door
Tical bring it to that ass raw
Breakin all the rules like glass jaws
Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours
Fucka, we don't need no rap tour
I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture
More than you bargained for
Tical, that stays open like an all nite store
For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel
Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill
And end your existance, M-E-T
Aint no use for resistance, H-O-D
I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust
The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts
I shift like a clutch with the Ruck
Examine my nuts, I dont stop 'till I get enough
Your shit broke down, light your flare
Since the darkside tears you into hollywood squares
Six million ways to die, so I chose
Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed
The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap
And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass
And yo my man (Tical) hit me now
Bitches use to play me now they can't forget me now
Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock
Empty off a lickin off a hip hop
Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block
How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot?
Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane
It's the funk doctor spock
Smokin buddha on a train
How high? So high that I can kiss the sky
How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick
Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane
Recognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed
How high? So High that I can kiss the sky
How sick? So Sick that you can suck my dick
Til my man Raider Ruckus come home
It ain't really on 'till the Ruckus get, home
Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone
We don't need yo dirt, we, we got our fuckin own
Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic
Bring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic
Movin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin dome piece
Plus I got no love for the beast
Hailin from the big East Coast
Where niggaz pack toast
Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats
(Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block
You try and stop the bum rush you will get popped)
As I run around with a racist
My style was born in the 50 stair cases
Dig it, eff a rap critic
He talk about it while I live it
If Red got the blunt, Im the second one to hit it
Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya
Enter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet
Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic
Rollin' blunts an all day habit
I get it on like Smiff and Wess
Who clicks the best
Punks take a sip and test
Who split your vest
The funk phenomenon
I'm bombin you like Lebanon
Blow canals of Panama
Just off stamina
Styles not to be fucked with, or played with
Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches
Hittin switches, Twistin wigs with
Fat radical mathematical type scriptures
I dig up in your planets like Diga,
Boo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens
Fuck the marines, I got machines
To light the spliff, and read Mad magazine
I fly more heads than Continental
Wreck ya five times like US AIR off an instrumental
Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks
But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks
I breaks em up proppa
Ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'
Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg
Look, I got the tools like Rickle
To make your mind tickle
For the nine nickle
(Yo Red, yo Red!)
Punk ass pussy ass
(You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it)
โฑ๏ธ Synced Lyrics
[00:02.09] Takin it from the top?
[00:03.91] Tippy? Tippy?
[00:20.62] How High?...
[00:21.63] The Ultimate High...
[00:27.92] 'Scuse me as I kiss the sky
[00:30.80] Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye
[00:33.30] Who the fuck wanna die for their culture
[00:35.56] Stalk the dead body like a vulture
[00:37.17] Tical get, hmmm
[00:38.74] Blacker than your blackest stallion
[00:40.52] Hit your house'n projects
[00:42.18] I represent the Shaolin my nigga
[00:43.92] Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow
[00:46.32] It be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down
[00:48.74] While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse
[00:51.24] When I raise my trigga finga all yall niggaz hit the decks!
[00:54.41] Cause aint no need for that, hustlers and hardcores
[00:56.75] Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs
[00:59.68] The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it
[01:02.03] With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch
[01:04.87] Plus, the Bombazee got me wild
[01:07.75] (Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide
[01:12.69] Three two Murder one lyric at your door
[01:15.23] Tical bring it to that ass raw
[01:17.36] Breakin all the rules like glass jaws
[01:19.48] Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours
[01:21.75] Fucka, we don't need no rap tour
[01:24.07] I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture
[01:26.40] More than you bargained for
[01:28.58] Tical, that stays open like an all nite store
[01:30.64] For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel
[01:33.41] Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill
[01:36.37] And end your existance, M-E-T
[01:38.75] Aint no use for resistance, H-O-D
[01:41.02] I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust
[01:44.11] The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts
[01:46.55] I shift like a clutch with the Ruck
[01:48.52] Examine my nuts, I dont stop 'till I get enough
[01:51.98] Your shit broke down, light your flare
[01:53.81] Since the darkside tears you into hollywood squares
[01:57.27] Six million ways to die, so I chose
[01:59.89] Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed
[02:02.70] The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap
[02:05.08] And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass
[02:07.81] And yo my man (Tical) hit me now
[02:10.53] Bitches use to play me now they can't forget me now
[02:12.81] Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock
[02:15.41] Empty off a lickin off a hip hop
[02:18.09] Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block
[02:20.90] How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot?
[02:23.75] Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane
[02:25.65] It's the funk doctor spock
[02:26.96] Smokin buddha on a train
[02:28.75] How high? So high that I can kiss the sky
[02:31.08] How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick
[02:34.22] Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane
[02:36.22] Recognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed
[02:39.13] How high? So High that I can kiss the sky
[02:41.79] How sick? So Sick that you can suck my dick
[02:43.83] Til my man Raider Ruckus come home
[02:46.10] It ain't really on 'till the Ruckus get, home
[02:49.03] Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone
[02:51.94] We don't need yo dirt, we, we got our fuckin own
[02:54.58] Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic
[02:56.87] Bring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic
[02:59.45] Movin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin dome piece
[03:03.70] Plus I got no love for the beast
[03:05.44] Hailin from the big East Coast
[03:07.28] Where niggaz pack toast
[03:08.86] Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats
[03:10.65] (Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block
[03:13.23] You try and stop the bum rush you will get popped)
[03:15.96] As I run around with a racist
[03:17.95] My style was born in the 50 stair cases
[03:20.81] Dig it, eff a rap critic
[03:22.66] He talk about it while I live it
[03:24.48] If Red got the blunt, Im the second one to hit it
[03:26.82] Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya
[03:29.69] Enter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet
[03:32.06] Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic
[03:34.62] Rollin' blunts an all day habit
[03:36.74] I get it on like Smiff and Wess
[03:38.31] Who clicks the best
[03:39.68] Punks take a sip and test
[03:40.99] Who split your vest
[03:41.99] The funk phenomenon
[03:43.59] I'm bombin you like Lebanon
[03:44.62] Blow canals of Panama
[03:46.13] Just off stamina
[03:47.49] Styles not to be fucked with, or played with
[03:50.06] Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches
[03:53.24] Hittin switches, Twistin wigs with
[03:55.21] Fat radical mathematical type scriptures
[03:58.19] I dig up in your planets like Diga,
[04:00.23] Boo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens
[04:03.59] Fuck the marines, I got machines
[04:05.46] To light the spliff, and read Mad magazine
[04:08.23] I fly more heads than Continental
[04:10.31] Wreck ya five times like US AIR off an instrumental
[04:13.52] Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks
[04:16.19] But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks
[04:18.68] I breaks em up proppa
[04:20.35] Ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'
[04:21.84] Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg
[04:24.21] Look, I got the tools like Rickle
[04:26.05] To make your mind tickle
[04:27.00] For the nine nickle
[04:28.69] (Yo Red, yo Red!)
[04:29.77] Punk ass pussy ass
[04:32.58] (You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it)
[04:40.74]
[00:03.91] Tippy? Tippy?
[00:20.62] How High?...
[00:21.63] The Ultimate High...
[00:27.92] 'Scuse me as I kiss the sky
[00:30.80] Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye
[00:33.30] Who the fuck wanna die for their culture
[00:35.56] Stalk the dead body like a vulture
[00:37.17] Tical get, hmmm
[00:38.74] Blacker than your blackest stallion
[00:40.52] Hit your house'n projects
[00:42.18] I represent the Shaolin my nigga
[00:43.92] Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow
[00:46.32] It be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down
[00:48.74] While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse
[00:51.24] When I raise my trigga finga all yall niggaz hit the decks!
[00:54.41] Cause aint no need for that, hustlers and hardcores
[00:56.75] Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs
[00:59.68] The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it
[01:02.03] With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch
[01:04.87] Plus, the Bombazee got me wild
[01:07.75] (Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide
[01:12.69] Three two Murder one lyric at your door
[01:15.23] Tical bring it to that ass raw
[01:17.36] Breakin all the rules like glass jaws
[01:19.48] Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours
[01:21.75] Fucka, we don't need no rap tour
[01:24.07] I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture
[01:26.40] More than you bargained for
[01:28.58] Tical, that stays open like an all nite store
[01:30.64] For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel
[01:33.41] Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill
[01:36.37] And end your existance, M-E-T
[01:38.75] Aint no use for resistance, H-O-D
[01:41.02] I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust
[01:44.11] The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts
[01:46.55] I shift like a clutch with the Ruck
[01:48.52] Examine my nuts, I dont stop 'till I get enough
[01:51.98] Your shit broke down, light your flare
[01:53.81] Since the darkside tears you into hollywood squares
[01:57.27] Six million ways to die, so I chose
[01:59.89] Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed
[02:02.70] The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap
[02:05.08] And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass
[02:07.81] And yo my man (Tical) hit me now
[02:10.53] Bitches use to play me now they can't forget me now
[02:12.81] Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock
[02:15.41] Empty off a lickin off a hip hop
[02:18.09] Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block
[02:20.90] How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot?
[02:23.75] Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane
[02:25.65] It's the funk doctor spock
[02:26.96] Smokin buddha on a train
[02:28.75] How high? So high that I can kiss the sky
[02:31.08] How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick
[02:34.22] Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane
[02:36.22] Recognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed
[02:39.13] How high? So High that I can kiss the sky
[02:41.79] How sick? So Sick that you can suck my dick
[02:43.83] Til my man Raider Ruckus come home
[02:46.10] It ain't really on 'till the Ruckus get, home
[02:49.03] Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone
[02:51.94] We don't need yo dirt, we, we got our fuckin own
[02:54.58] Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic
[02:56.87] Bring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic
[02:59.45] Movin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin dome piece
[03:03.70] Plus I got no love for the beast
[03:05.44] Hailin from the big East Coast
[03:07.28] Where niggaz pack toast
[03:08.86] Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats
[03:10.65] (Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block
[03:13.23] You try and stop the bum rush you will get popped)
[03:15.96] As I run around with a racist
[03:17.95] My style was born in the 50 stair cases
[03:20.81] Dig it, eff a rap critic
[03:22.66] He talk about it while I live it
[03:24.48] If Red got the blunt, Im the second one to hit it
[03:26.82] Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya
[03:29.69] Enter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet
[03:32.06] Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic
[03:34.62] Rollin' blunts an all day habit
[03:36.74] I get it on like Smiff and Wess
[03:38.31] Who clicks the best
[03:39.68] Punks take a sip and test
[03:40.99] Who split your vest
[03:41.99] The funk phenomenon
[03:43.59] I'm bombin you like Lebanon
[03:44.62] Blow canals of Panama
[03:46.13] Just off stamina
[03:47.49] Styles not to be fucked with, or played with
[03:50.06] Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches
[03:53.24] Hittin switches, Twistin wigs with
[03:55.21] Fat radical mathematical type scriptures
[03:58.19] I dig up in your planets like Diga,
[04:00.23] Boo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens
[04:03.59] Fuck the marines, I got machines
[04:05.46] To light the spliff, and read Mad magazine
[04:08.23] I fly more heads than Continental
[04:10.31] Wreck ya five times like US AIR off an instrumental
[04:13.52] Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks
[04:16.19] But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks
[04:18.68] I breaks em up proppa
[04:20.35] Ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'
[04:21.84] Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg
[04:24.21] Look, I got the tools like Rickle
[04:26.05] To make your mind tickle
[04:27.00] For the nine nickle
[04:28.69] (Yo Red, yo Red!)
[04:29.77] Punk ass pussy ass
[04:32.58] (You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it)
[04:40.74]