How High (Explicit) - Method Man (方法人)/Redman Written by：R. Noble/Erick Sermon/Clifford Smith/Sylvester Levay/Stephan Prager/Erick Sermo Taking it from the top Tippy 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 hmmm Blacker than your blackest stallion Hit your house'n projects I represent the shaoling 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 yall 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**king 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 rap ture More than you bargained for Tical that stays open like an all nite store For real I keeps it I'll like a piece of blue steel Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill
And end your existance MET Ain't no use for resistance HOD 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 darkside 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 Tical 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 licking 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 smoking 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**king o Check it I brings havoc with my hectic Bring the pain lyrics screaming for the antiseptic Moving on your left kid and I'm methted out my f**king dome piece Plus I got no love for the beast Hailing 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 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 AK Matic Rolling blunts an all day habit I get it on like smif'n'wes Who split your vest Punks take a sip and test Who split your vest The funk phenomenon I'm bombing 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 bit ches Hitting switches twisting wigs with Fat radical mathematical type scriptures
I dig up in your planets like diga Boo scared you blew you to Smithe Reens 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**
Word up Tical we out
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Just off stamina Styles not to be f**ked with or played with F**k the pretty hoes I love those section a bit ches Hitting switches twisting wigs with Fat radical mathematical type scriptures
