ends Puttin' my serve down on the Claire 9-9, Hittin' up the Graveyard Shift wid real Little Will Big Wally and Wish Bone Little Wally high rollerz and
the fuck I be I, you cannot see I Flabbergasted, blasted, my Magnum P.I. Oops I lie, I got a cannon bout the size of Grand Canyon I'm prime time, giving
meaningless to try As he rubs his red-rimmed eyes He says "I've never seen her get this bad" Even though she seems so high He knows that she can't fly
: [Jay-Z] Turn my music high, high, high, high-er {*"You don't know.. what you're doing, doing, doing, doing.."*} Sure I do.. I'm from the streets where
to floss my cassette tapes in sixty-two's And my singles like gems, you know the treys Get you high for a while, but the, high don't stay You need another
York you make it happen Shout out the South Bronx where my mom hails from Right next to High Bridge across from Harlem To the Grand Concourse where
Cube] My skin is my sin, look at my complexion Section 8, erection great Balls like Ru Paul and a big fat plank Get you higher than a Spike Lee joint
: [Verse One] Remember back in the days, when niggaz had waves Gazelle shades, and corn braids Pitchin pennies, honies had the high top jellies Shootin
Sneak attack, a new cat sit back, worth top dollar In fact, touch mines, and I'll react like a Rottweiler Who pull the late, we play for high stakes at
I'm a baller I hustle with my father It's the Birdman and Birdman J.R. Flip them birds man eighteen grand just order Eighty-five for half and forty-five
be on the spot when I can tell you all the homies that done get shot From at least about five years ago when I was in junior high goin to Marshall The
: (feat. Wyclef Jean) [Intro:] T.I(Grand Hustle Homie)(Wyclef Jean-Listen Ev'ry Body Repot 2 Da Blodclot Dance Floor) T.I-You Know What It Is Wyclef
it yoself Bet you won't, meet nobody ranked as high as myself The checks you waitin' on, homes, I can sign them myself Tote gats, dro smoked that, now I'm high
life Half these rappers don't know what sacrifice feel like Man these niggaz is all hype Not even rappin' on real mics They just get high and say whatever
peice mind frame on nine dime peice fine freaks, I'm spitting hotter than a popeyes four piece, 6 carrot earrings, that costs 20 grand each, high as I
Sittin behing glass Impala's High class Impala's I make two cash deposits everytime I pass the closet If niggas lookin for the grands The grands can be
from raw sex Enter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream now terminal, like Grand Central Station Program fat baselines, on Novation Getting drunk like a fuck, I'm duckin five