How High (explicit Album Version) - Redman Excuse 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 Ticalian HMMM Blacker than your blackest stallion Hit your housin projects I represent the Shaolin my nigga Hell yes Apocalypse now the gun pow 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 Fukin 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 ass-raw Breakin all the rules like glass-jaws Nigga you got to get mine to get-yours Fuka we dont need no rap-tou 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 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 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 don't stop till I get enough Your shit 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 ass And yo my man Tical hit me now Bitches use to play me now they cant 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 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 Till 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 dont need yo dirt weed we got our fukin 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 method out my fukin 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 "F" 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 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 fuked with or played with F**k the pretty hoes I love those Section A Bit-ches Hittin switches Twistin wigs with Phat radical mathematical type scriptures I dig up in your planets like Digga Boo scared you blew you to smitha-reens F**k the marines I got machines To light the spit 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 404

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