How High Karaoke Method Man Explicit Lyrics

Karaoke How High Method Man & Redman

Song key: Bm

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Lyrics of How High

You takin' it from the top
Tippy, oh sing it daddy
Top, boh boh beem bom hey yeah, mmh mmh
Ooh, eeh, take my mind
Ah ah, takin' it back where it's never gone before
Ah ah
At the mic I'm much movin' cow shit
And I'm takin' 'em just to get the ultimate high baby
Uh uh, oh ha ha the ultimate high
Excuse me as I kiss the sky sing a song of sixpence a pocket full o' rye
Who the fuck wanna die for dey culture
Stalk the dead body like a vulture they gougin', hmm
Blacker than your blackest stallion hit yo' housin'
Projects I represent yo'
Shaolin my nigga
Oh yes apocalypse now the gun pow
We be goin' down diggy diggy down diggy down down
When the planet and the stars and the moons collapse
When I raise my trigger finger all y'all niggas hit the deck
'Cos ain't no need for that hustlers and hard core
Raw to the floor raw like reservoir dogs
The green eyed bandit can't stand it
With more booty I loose than that you can't stand bitch
Plus the bah bah zee got me wide is just straight suicide
Ten nine eight seven six five four
Three two murder one lyrics at your door
The cow ringer 'til that ass raw breakin' all the rules like glass jaw 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 chore more than you bargained for
The counter stays open like an all night store
For real I keeps you ill like a piece of blue steel
Point it at your temple with the intent to kill
And end your existance
Ain't no use for resistance
I be's the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust
The Egyptian musk used to have me pour mad suds
I shift like a clutch with the rush
Examine my nuts I don't start to like it enough
Yo' shit broke down light yo' flare
Since the dark side tears you into Hollywood square
Six million ways to die so I chose
Made a six million and went wit' yo' eyes closed
And blindfold cold so you can feel the wrath
An' shatter the glass an' second half on yo' funky ass
And you're my man hit me now
Bitches used to play me now they can't forget me now
They get me not I rock the spot check clock
Empty off a kickin' off and a hip hop
Fuck the Billboard I'm a bullet on my block
How you dealt when you paid 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 the train
How high how sick
So high that you can kiss the sky
So sick that you can suck my dick
Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane
Work it out Johnny Blaze ain't a damn thing change
How high how sick
So high that you can kiss the sky
So sick that you can suck my dick
To my man radar ruckus come home at eight
Really on to the ruckus git home wif her man
Home now walk to the red zone
We don't need your dirt we we got our fuckin' own
Check it I reeks havoc wit' my hectic
Bring the pain lyrics hurry for the Antiseptic
Movin' on yo' left kick and the method
Of my fuckin' don't peace 'cos
I have no love for the beast
Hailin' from the big East coast where niggas pack
Toast home of the drug king pins and cutthroats
Hey boy are you the rude boy on the block
You try to stop the bum rush you will get popped
As I run a mile where're the races
My style was born in them empty staircases
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 da
I got the bird nows and glock
See ya into the center lyrics playin' like vicar
Stray rabbit I bring habit wit' an A K matic rollin' blunts an all day habit
I get it on like Smith Wesson who clicks the best
Punks take a sip an' test who splits yo' vest
The funk phenomenon I'm bombin' you like Lebanon
Blow canals like Panama just on stamina
Styles not to be fucked wit' or played wit'
Fuck the pretty hoes I love those sexy hey bitch
Just hittin' snitches twistin' wigs wit
Phat radical mathamatical type scriptures
I dig up in planet like Digger, booh
Scared you blew you to smither
Reens fuck the Marines
I got machines
That like to spit and read Mad magazine
I play more hands than Continental
Wreck you five times like
US Air off a instrumental
Look I'm not a halfway crook with bad looks
But I may murder yo' case like yo' name was Cal Brooks
I breaks 'em off proper ask Biggie Smalls who shot ya
Funk doctor with the twelve gauge monster
Look I got the tools like Rickel to make your mind tickle for the nine nickel

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