How High - D.J. Pop Mix
Taking it from the top top
Tippy
How high
The ultimate high
'Scuse me as I kiss the sky
Sing a song of six pence a pocket full a rye
Who the f**k wanna die for their culture
Stalk the dead body like a vulture
Tical get blacker than your blackest stallion
Hit your house'n projects I represent the shaolin my Ni**a
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 y'all niggaz hit the decks
'Cause ain't 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 b**ch
Plus the bombazee got me wild
F**kin' with us is a straight suicide
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 murder 1 lyric at your door
Tical bring it to that a** raw
Breaking all the rules like glass jaws
Ni**a you got to get mine to get yours
F**ka we don't need no rap tour
I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rapture
More than you bargained for
Tical that stays open like an all night 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 existence m-e-t
Ain't no use for resistance h-o-d
I bees the ultimate rush to any Ni**a on dust
The egyptian musk use to have me pull mad sluts
I shift like a clutch with the ruck
Examine my nuts I don't stop till I get enough
Your sh*t broke down light your flare
Since the dark side tears you into hollywood squares
6 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 a**
And yo my man hit me now
B**ches 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
F**k the billboard I'm a bullet on my block
How you d**e 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 your dirt w**d we got a f**kin' o
Check it I brings havoc with my hectic
Bring the pain lyrics screaming for the antiseptic
Movin' on your left kid and I'm methted out my f**kin' dome piece
Plus I got no love for the beast
Hailin' from the big east coast
Where niggaz pack toast
Home of the ** 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 I'm 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 smif'n'wes
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 f**ked with or played with
F**k the pretty hoes I love those section a b**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 smithereens
F**k the marines I got machines
To light the spliff and read mad magazine
I fly more heads than continental
Wreck ya 5 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
Punk a** p**sy a**
It's over
Taking it from the top top
Tippy
How high
The ultimate high
'Scuse me as I kiss the sky
Sing a song of six pence a pocket full a rye
Who the f**k wanna die for their culture
Stalk the dead body like a vulture
Tical get blacker than your blackest stallion
Hit your house'n projects I represent the shaolin my Ni**a
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 y'all niggaz hit the decks
'Cause ain't 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 b**ch
Plus the bombazee got me wild
F**kin' with us is a straight suicide
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 murder 1 lyric at your door
Tical bring it to that a** raw
Breaking all the rules like glass jaws
Ni**a you got to get mine to get yours
F**ka we don't need no rap tour
I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rapture
More than you bargained for
Tical that stays open like an all night 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 existence m-e-t
Ain't no use for resistance h-o-d
I bees the ultimate rush to any Ni**a on dust
The egyptian musk use to have me pull mad sluts
I shift like a clutch with the ruck
Examine my nuts I don't stop till I get enough
Your sh*t broke down light your flare
Since the dark side tears you into hollywood squares
6 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 a**
And yo my man hit me now
B**ches 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
F**k the billboard I'm a bullet on my block
How you d**e 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 your dirt w**d we got a f**kin' o
Check it I brings havoc with my hectic
Bring the pain lyrics screaming for the antiseptic
Movin' on your left kid and I'm methted out my f**kin' dome piece
Plus I got no love for the beast
Hailin' from the big east coast
Where niggaz pack toast
Home of the ** 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 I'm 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 smif'n'wes
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 f**ked with or played with
F**k the pretty hoes I love those section a b**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 smithereens
F**k the marines I got machines
To light the spliff and read mad magazine
I fly more heads than continental
Wreck ya 5 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
Punk a** p**sy a**
It's over
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