Taking it from the top? Tippy? Tippy? How High? The Ultimate High [Method Man] Scuse me as I kiss the sky Sing a song of six pence, a pocet full a rye Who the fuck want to die for their culture Stalk the dead body like a vulture Tical get, hmm Blacker than your blackest stallion Hit your house'n projects I represent the Shaolin my nigga Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow It be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down [Redman] While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse When I raise my trigga finga all why'all niggaz hit the decks! Cause ain't 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 (Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide [Method Man] 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 Fucka, we don't need no rap tour 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 existence, M-E-T Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D [Redman] 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 can't forget me now Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock Empty off a licking off a hip hop Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot? [Chorus] Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane It's the funk doctor spock smoking 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 [Method Man] Til 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 don't need your dirt weed we got a fuckin O Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic Bring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic Movin on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin 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, eff a rap critic He talk about it while I live it If Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it [Redman] 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 Smif'n'Wes 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 fucked with, or played with Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches Hitting switches, Twisting wigs with Fat radical mathematical type scriptures I dig up in your planets like Diga, Boo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens Fuck the marines, I got machines To light the spliff, 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 To make your mind tickle For the nine nickle (Yo Red, yo Red!) Punk ass pussy ass [You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it] Word up Tical, We Out (It's over)
Microphone checka, swingin sword lecture closin down the sectar supreme neck protector Bet I won em kid Mr. Metha warmin pot about to blow his lid from the pressure, too hot for TV but cheesy, Too many wanna be hard be easy, is all in together going all not together it don't take much to please me Still homes are never satisfy like the stones we don't condome bitin in the sellin crossbones protectin what am writin don't clash with the Titan who blast with a liscence to kill rap presitence C'mon, in the zone with ya nigga from the Group Home TICAL!!(Fuck your lifestyle!!) (Blew wind)...put your lights out got the shit the crackin got you fienin with your pipes out time for some action, surfin the avenue mad at you, where I used to battle crews back when Antoinette had that attitude Cover me I'm going in, walls closin in got us bustin off these pistols my niggas got issues...again, same song armed with the mega bomb Blow you out the frame and I'm gone.
[Verse Two: Redman]
I was going to Buck-we-romes, cellular phones Doc-Meth back in the flesh, blood and bone don't condone Spent bank loans and homegrown suckers break like Turbo in no zone, when I, grab the broom moon-walk platoon hawk my goons spark leave you in a blue lagoon lost (true) three nines and a glove with masu di die in the car right behind on the boss Haters don't touch, weigh us both up now my neighbor doped up got the cable hooked up. All channels lift my shirt all Mammal you ship off keys and we ship Grand Pianos. sawed off shotgun hand on the pump, sippin on a forty smokin on a blunt bust my gun and Red and Meth gettin jumped La la la la, la la la laaaaa
yeah c'mon, Red and Meth gettin jumped La la la la, la la la laaaaaa
Microphone checka, swingin sword lecture closin down the sectar supreme neck protector Bet I won em kid Mr. Metha warmin pot about to blow his lid from the pressure, too hot for TV but cheesy, Too many wanna be hard be easy, is all in together going all not together it don't take much to please me Still homes are never satisfy like the stones we don't condome bitin in the sellin crossbones protectin what am writin don't clash with the Titan who blast with a liscence to kill rap presitence C'mon, in the zone with ya nigga from the Group Home TICAL!!(Fuck your lifestyle!!) (Blew wind)...put your lights out got the shit the crackin got you fienin with your pipes out time for some action, surfin the avenue mad at you, where I used to battle crews back when Antoinette had that attitude Cover me I'm going in, walls closin in got us bustin off these pistols my niggas got issues...again, same song armed with the mega bomb Blow you out the frame and I'm gone.
[Verse Two: Redman]
I was going to Buck-we-romes, cellular phones Doc-Meth back in the flesh, blood and bone don't condone Spent bank loans and homegrown suckers break like Turbo in no zone, when I, grab the broom moon-walk platoon hawk my goons spark leave you in a blue lagoon lost (true) three nines and a glove with masu di die in the car right behind on the boss Haters don't touch, weigh us both up now my neighbor doped up got the cable hooked up. All channels lift my shirt all Mammal you ship off keys and we ship Grand Pianos. sawed off shotgun hand on the pump, sippin on a forty smokin on a blunt bust my gun and Red and Meth gettin jumped La la la la, la la la laaaaa
yeah c'mon, Red and Meth gettin jumped La la la la, la la la laaaaaa
Taking it from the top? Tippy? Tippy? How High? The Ultimate High [Method Man] Scuse me as I kiss the sky Sing a song of six pence, a pocet full a rye Who the fuck want to die for their culture Stalk the dead body like a vulture Tical get, hmm Blacker than your blackest stallion Hit your house'n projects I represent the Shaolin my nigga Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow It be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down [Redman] While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse When I raise my trigga finga all why'all niggaz hit the decks! Cause ain't 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 (Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide [Method Man] 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 Fucka, we don't need no rap tour 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 existence, M-E-T Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D [Redman] 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 can't forget me now Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock Empty off a licking off a hip hop Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot? [Chorus] Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane It's the funk doctor spock smoking 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 [Method Man] Til 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 don't need your dirt weed we got a fuckin O Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic Bring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic Movin on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin 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, eff a rap critic He talk about it while I live it If Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it [Redman] 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 Smif'n'Wes 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 fucked with, or played with Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches Hitting switches, Twisting wigs with Fat radical mathematical type scriptures I dig up in your planets like Diga, Boo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens Fuck the marines, I got machines To light the spliff, 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 To make your mind tickle For the nine nickle (Yo Red, yo Red!) Punk ass pussy ass [You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it] Word up Tical, We Out (It's over)
Microphone checka, swingin sword lecture closin down the sectar supreme neck protector Bet I won em kid Mr. Metha warmin pot about to blow his lid from the pressure, too hot for TV but cheesy, Too many wanna be hard be easy, is all in together going all not together it don't take much to please me Still homes are never satisfy like the stones we don't condome bitin in the sellin crossbones protectin what am writin don't clash with the Titan who blast with a liscence to kill rap presitence C'mon, in the zone with ya nigga from the Group Home TICAL!!(Fuck your lifestyle!!) (Blew wind)...put your lights out got the shit the crackin got you fienin with your pipes out time for some action, surfin the avenue mad at you, where I used to battle crews back when Antoinette had that attitude Cover me I'm going in, walls closin in got us bustin off these pistols my niggas got issues...again, same song armed with the mega bomb Blow you out the frame and I'm gone.
I was going to Buck-we-romes, cellular phones Doc-Meth back in the flesh, blood and bone don't condone Spent bank loans and homegrown suckers break like Turbo in no zone, when I, grab the broom moon-walk platoon hawk my goons spark leave you in a blue lagoon lost (true) three nines and a glove with masu di die in the car right behind on the boss Haters don't touch, weigh us both up now my neighbor doped up got the cable hooked up. All channels lift my shirt all Mammal you ship off keys and we ship Grand Pianos. sawed of shotgun hand on the pump, sippin on a forty puffin on a blunt bust my gun and Red and Meth gettin jumped La la la la, la la la laaaaa
yeah c'mon, Red and Meth gettin jumped La la la la, la la la laaaaaa
[Street Life] Yo yo, enta, enta, enta, enta yo It's the synical, lyrical rap individual On my death bed I spit sick flows that's critical I'm not a fan of this, I'm a mic vandalist Thug therapist, my clan's too original My slang bang to wax, words that's visual Too digital for y'all common street criminals Who wanna come test, lick the sweat from my genitals We can get off the mic and get a little physical I was born to rock since they cut my umbilical Cord, I swing swords, behold the prolifical Rhyme writer, hip-hop provider, prize fighter Live wire, quick to set the mic on fire I speak legalized dope, hitman for hire I quote murderous notes, dope rhyme supplier Hang glide on the mic like a stunt driver And I won't stop rockin till I retire
[Redman] Yo yo yo When it comes to the darts, I throw em Flamethrower, blow your section-eight home to your payphone up Grass smoker, in the cut for the lawnmower I water, I ride the wale that ate Jonah Over, your faced wit the black cape over You woke up four gorillas wit a makeover Packin a punch, asthma pump takeover My crew boards, and the whole plane lays over (YO YO!) You can't talk wit the tape over Pass the pussy, get out, date's over Back to your gray Nova that's way slower Redline to five on the highway shoulder Enemies say "Doc the one to play closer" This baboon loose off the chain choker Hardcore, ?jacore? I hate poker But y'all spread when my bullet's daytona
[Chorus 8x] Comin through, comin through duck Run for cover (BASS!)
[Method Man] Yo yo this ain't ya granddaddy music, it's hip hop Comin through your woofer like a mute kit Hundred-thousand watts on some bullshit I blackout eclipse wit the semi bust a full clip (CLAP OUT!) Touch one if any, that's my complexing conquest Now tell that shit to the court, I plead no contest From none of y'all, please I potty train pissy-ass rugrat for free Keep the cake for the family and off Sarah Lee That's how we do, powerful, movin on ya left! Mista who, Meth, black gorilla, beatin on his chest I suggest, you pay yo' debt or Protect Ya Neck I suggest, you wear a vest makin all them threats Here's a chin check that cash and splash niggas in half Smash rappers like hash (smoke em down to ashes) At last it's the crew that party crashes the masses Madness wildin out like special ed classes
[Ghostface Killah] Straight out the gate, meet Tony Don of all dons, behind New York King Tut wit one arm Been at nutcrunch last cinnamon toast wit power rose Whips dirty, dustin my bitch, FUCK PAROLE! Peace shout he's Wallee Timb's, wild out (wild out) We in the spot, guns go off though Came out his mask it was Ollie North Oh shit, what up what up Ghost Congratulations on your new flick Burn it dead who max the most Word up you got the most Clarks Bravehearts spin this For under come down in the pale he need minutes Told y'all before I kick doors off the hinges Ain't no cooler and there ain't no Guiness Money like Barry Blue, Keanu Reeves wit bench slippers Play the PGA Tour wit Jack Nicklaus Statues of Mary, gas that bust mercury Sit through the biggest storm and hand out turkey
[Redman] Yeah, yeah, yeah, WHUUUA!!! That's the way I like it
[Method Man] PISSY ASS RUSTY ASS NIGGAS!! (0-7-1-0-3) 1-0-3-0-4
