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How High (remix)
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Redman
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1
Taking it from the top?
2
Tippy? Tippy?
3
How High?
4
The Ultimate High
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[Method Man]
6
Scuse me as I kiss the sky
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Sing a song of six pence, a pocet full a rye
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Who the fuck want to die for their culture
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Stalk the dead body like a vulture
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Tical get, hmm
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Blacker than your blackest stallion
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Hit your house' projects
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I represent the Shaolin my nigga
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Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow
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It be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down
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[Redman]
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While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse
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When I raise my trigga finga all why'all niggaz hit the decks!
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Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcores
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Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs
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The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it
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With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch
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Plus, the Bombazee got me wild
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(Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide
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[Method Man]
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10 9 8 7 6 5 4
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3 2 Murder 1 lyric at your door
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Tical bring it to that ass raw
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Breakin all the rules like glass jaws
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Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours
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Fucka, we don't need no rap tour
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I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture
33
More than you bargained for
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Tical, that stays open like an all night store
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For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel
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Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill
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And end your existence, M-E-T
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Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D
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[Redman]
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I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust
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The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts
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I shift like a clutch with the Ruck
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Examine my nuts, I don't stop till I get enough
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Your shit broke down, light your flare
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Since the darkside tears you into hollywood squares
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6 million ways to die, so I chose
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Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed
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The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap
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And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass
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And yo my man (Tical) hit me now
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Bitches use to play me now they can't forget me now
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Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock
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Empty off a licking off a hip hop
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Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block
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How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot?
56
[Chorus]
57
Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane
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It's the funk doctor spock smoking Buddha on a train
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How high? So high that I can kiss the sky
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How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick
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Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane
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Recognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed
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How high? So High that I can kiss the sky
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How sick? So Sick that you can suck my dick
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[Method Man]
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Til my man Raider Ruckus come home
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It ain't really on till the Ruckus get, home
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Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone
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We don't need your dirt weed we got a fuckin O
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Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic
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Bring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic
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Movin on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin dome piece
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Plus I got no love for the beast
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Hailin from the big East Coast
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Where niggaz pack toast
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Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats
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[Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block
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You try and stop the bum rush you will get popped]
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As I run around with a racist
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My style was born in the 50 stair cases
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Dig it, eff a rap critic
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He talk about it while I live it
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If Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it
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[Redman]
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Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya
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Enter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet
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Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic
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Rollin blunts an all day habit
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I get it on like Smif''Wes
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Punks take a sip and test
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Who split your vest
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The funk phenomenon
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I'm bombin you like Lebanon
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Blow canals of Panama
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Just off stamina
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Styles not to be fucked with, or played with
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Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches
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Hitting switches, Twisting wigs with
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Fat radical mathematical type scriptures
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I dig up in your planets like Diga,
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Boo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens
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Fuck the marines, I got machines
103
To light the spliff, and read Mad magazine
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I fly more heads than Continental
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Wreck ya 5 times like US AIR off an instrumental
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Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks
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But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks
108
I breaks em up proppa
109
Ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'
110
Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg
111
Look, I got the tools like Rickle
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To make your mind tickle
113
For the nine nickle
114
(Yo Red, yo Red!)
115
Punk ass pussy ass
116
[You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it]
117
Word up Tical, We Out
118
(It's over)
How High (Remix)
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