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letra de higher - realehood

an take me higher on take me higher high above high above our town take me higher will make it out of here hold on

im lazy so sh-t is crazy i go in when i write ain’t got all night so what i do is always tight like i bite but it’s all me when i write dopen your flows copen im addicted ta nice addicted for life liquid an ice wit a biscuit that’s nice you match i head scratch that’s lice carrots all that ice cut r+b og pebo brice real time i steal time on tivo twice mad at me thats not reality that’s all vice say wе all shies my voice has gone all sh-tty my flow all city your props all pity my songs all nitty nothing but hits liz claibornе nothing but fit lebo s-x nothing but cl-ts n-ggas locked down hands on d-ck’s i keep the omni that mitt romney wit chung connie mesu imani what the f-ck johnnie im busten shots till you call the cops i want my props joints move like hard tops beams like cyclops get your mind right jeans light sight beyond sight phil in the air one more night how you rap can’t write it’s too late you hater da great debater slash dark vader when to war wit an incinerator it turns out i burn hotter than lava flow mac gyuver your a rider though in prada a scholar a don in kiton polo that james bond come on really through i really flow sparks omillio the bond like gillie thou you seen it i beam it i really mean it no hate it’s late f-ck a loser it’s eddie an the cruisers apocalypse wow tupacalpyse now the drama’s lesser in the compressor wack n-gga claim crack n-gga get back n-gga pull card hard like whitey ford departed slash r-t-rded body parts get discarded fargo don’t too far go that get backs a k!ller in chinchilla hit quality meats blow on quality beats bang out the best stuff on earth hang ten like i surf it’s the rebirth of the real n-gga hitman reborn ya spit man get tourn werewolf in london werewolf in france a villain still singing biggie one more chance €

el coheba follow the leader bump that shout out ta da heater he changed up go his range up ta see him hop out a range ain’t strange what classic sh-t in my range n-gga what my name n-ggas out the game like lil zane dana dane she was wit it i hit it smells like teen spirit kurt cobain i don’t know her name i ain’t got no game im given ta getten draws ow ah’s or tours tap toes wit jaws flame a flow that floors old school like da doors they open like legs stiff arm like jim brown break ankles like eggs i fire write black dynamite clean off im blown heads roll like mid evil justice no peace when i bust this fresh out jail on bail in a chavelle sip rolling rock ale hard an might snap like bread that’s stale i find it disturbing how my flows be herb ’en rhythmic urban i be serve ’en tyler durden isis body boys in turbans me im doing shots of burbourn in burbank the sound it sounds like gucci financial institution need heat im the solution like liquid in a lab 100% proof like da prefect equation atlantis risen luck like bullets grazen cow on grass kung pow good hash 7 car crash culminate in a 50 foot drop sour diesel leaves got coped like pleads open range camron’s range when da red sock bleed that’s big papi good luck im in da hood stuck like fiends elm street bad dreams not goods what bad means not hoods a bad thing you good you got ya mind right show growth change what ya rhyme like mine like summers in da south of france first date romance til we slip ta da dark side on skid row my big flow got jig dough an pac glow illuminate like da star of juda palms fist of budda from my n-ggas that’s liven that west coast for my n-ggas in the east in the beast for peace liberation an you front bullet dump liberty bells that ring in h-ll shots til they yell the earliest is cerberus three head monster spit cancer the answer one more chancer its risk not da game the frisk nothing came in a new world order n-ggas feel the same blow water i feel your save it my minds over see ‘en the books that i read it they cheated and its death f-ck the n-gga bleed it blood there’s still time i still rhyme ta be too ill can never be a crime it criminal blam hit landed they can’t stand it sh-t going down like i already plan it when things became canned phantoms in the mist is the jist i jests i make rap like it’s pop make it so it’s hot label pay a lot i give it what i got popalot hots hot wit the brim above the rim it’s a sin serenade what i marinade wolfgang puck stuck ny cut a1 lines they say them go head play one i spray them til the e & j done hibachi like itachi hanzo an it’s a classic moroccan oil stain camel suede on da auto bond swerven mahoganies back flow through what i go through tryen ta get where im going to experience what life is show ’en you adolesant vigor final fantasies last paradise this side of wit monologue by strep merial lead by collin your feral adaptions of works by f scott fitzgerald im lazy so sh-t is crazy i go in when i write

- realehood

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