How High
Method Man & Redman Lyrics

Takin' it from the top? (Top)
Are we starting from the beginning?

Tippy? (tippy)
Are you ready?

Come on, my people
Let's go, everybody

Sing it, daddy
Sing along, my friend

Hey (ooh-wee)
Hey, I'm excited

We rock
We are awesome

Ha (ah), ha ha
Haha

Ha ha (aha)
Haha

Taking my mind where it's never gone before
Exploring new experiences

And so like a mushroom in cow shit
Growing in unexpected places

And I'm taking it just to get the ultimate high, baby
Using drugs for an intense high

The ultimate high, ohh
The highest level of euphoria

Excuse me as I kiss the sky
Forgive me for getting high

Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full a rye
Finding joy in moments of struggle

Who the fuck wanna die for their culture?
Why would someone sacrifice their life for their beliefs?

Stalk the dead body like a vulture, Ticalion, hmm
Showing no mercy, like scavenging animals

Blacker than your blackest stallion
Darker than anything you can imagine

Hit your housing projects
Attacking poverty-stricken neighborhoods

I represent yo' Shaolin, my nigga
I'm from Shaolin, my friend

Now yes, Apocalypse now, the gun pow
Bringing destruction and violence

It be going down, diggy diggy down, diggy down down
Things are getting intense

While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse
During the chaos of the universe

When I raise my trigger finger all y'all niggas hit the deck
Everyone gets down when I prepare to shoot

'Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcore
There's no need for unnecessary violence

Raw to the floor, raw like Reservoir Dogs
Real and gritty, like the movie Reservoir Dogs

The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it
I can't tolerate it

With more fruitier loops than that Toucan Sam bitch
With more flavorful beats than anyone else

Plus the Bombazee got me wide
The weed I'm smoking has me feeling great

Fucking with us
Messing with us

Is a straight suicide
Is a death wish

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four
Counting down

Three, two, murder one lyric at your door
Killing it with my lyrics

Tical bring it to that ass raw
I bring it with raw energy

Breaking all the rules like glass jaws
Defying conventions

Nigga, you got to get mines to get yours
You have to hustle for what you want

Fucka, we don't need no rap tour
We don't need to conform to mainstream standards

I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture
I prefer expressing truth through my lyrics

More than you bargained for
More than you expected

Tical, I stays open like an all night store (yeah, yeah, ah)
I'm always ready, like a 24-hour store

For real I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel
I stay real and dangerous

Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill
Ready to take you out

And end your existence, M-E-T
And bring an end to your existence, M-E-T

Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D
There's no point in resisting, H-O-D

I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust
I provide the greatest high to anyone on drugs

The Egyptian Musk used to have me pull mad sluts
I used to attract many women with Egyptian Musk perfume

I shift like a clutch with the Ruck
I move smoothly and seamlessly with my partner

Examine my nuts, I don't stop 'til I get enough
Analyze my capabilities, I won't quit until I'm satisfied

Your shit broke down, light your flare
Your situation is messed up, find a way to signal for help

Since the dark side tears you into Hollywood Squares
Since your negative actions lead to negative consequences

Six million ways to die, so I chose
There are many ways to meet your end, but I made my choice

Made it six million and one with your eyes closed
I added one more to the death count

The blindfold cold, so you can feel the wrath
I blindfolded you so you can face the consequences

And shatter the glass and second half on your funky ass
And break the glass and defeat you

And, yo, my man (Tical) hit me now
And, yo, my friend, contact me now

Bitches used to play me now they can't forget me now
Women used to ignore me, but now they can't stop thinking about me

They get me mad, I rock the spot, check Glock
They make me angry, but I still dominate the scene

Empty off a licking off a hip-hop
Shoot my gun in celebration of hip-hop

Fuck the Billboard, I'm a bullet on my block
I don't care about chart success, I represent my neighborhood

How you dope when you paid for your Billboard spot?
How can you be considered great when you paid for your success?

Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane
Look up, there's something extraordinary

It's the Funk Doctor Spot smoking buddha on a train
It's me, the Funk Doctor, smoking weed on a train

How high? So high that I can kiss the sky
I'm so high that I feel like I can touch the sky

How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick (uh)
I'm so great and talented that you should show me respect

Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane
Look up, there's something extraordinary

Recognize Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed
Recognize me, Johnny Blaze, nothing has changed

How high? So high that I can kiss the sky
I'm so high that I feel like I can touch the sky

How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick
I'm so great and talented that you should show me respect

'Til my man Raider Ruckus come home
Until my friend Raider Ruckus is released from prison

It ain't really on 'til the Ruckus get, home
The real action starts when Ruckus is here

Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone
Smoke some meth, then go to the dangerous area

We don't need your dirt weed, we got our fucking own
We don't need your low-quality weed, we have our own

Check it, I wreaks havoc with my hectic
I cause chaos with my crazy behavior

Bring the Pain lyrics, screaming for the antiseptic
My lyrics are intense, they need a cure

Moving on your left, kid, and I'm Method
I'm passing by you on your left, I'm Method Man

Out my fucking dome piece, plus I got no love for the beast
I'm crazy, and I don't like the police

Hailing from the big East Coast, where niggas pack toast
I'm from the tough East Coast, where people carry guns

Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats
Where drug dealers and murderers thrive

Hey boy, you the rude boy on the block
Hey boy, you're the tough guy in the neighborhood

You try to stop the bum rush, you will get popped
If you try to interfere, you will get shot

As I run a mile with a racist
As I deal with someone who is prejudiced

My style was born in the pissy staircases
My style was developed in the gritty, dirty staircases

Dig it, F a rap critic
Forget the rap critics

He talk about it while I live it
They talk about rap, I live it

If Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it
If Redman has the weed, I'm next in line

Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and Glocks in ya
Look up at me, I have the words, guns, and influence in the game

Enter the center, lyrics bang like Ricochet Rabbit
I come in strong, my lyrics hit like a ricocheting bullet

I brings havoc with an AK 'matic, rolling blunts an all day habit
I cause chaos with my automatic rifle, and I smoke weed all day

I get it on like Smith & Wes', who clique's the best?
I go hard, like the firearms Smith & Wesson, and I ask who's the best crew

Punks take a sip and test, who splits your vest?
Don't underestimate us, we will shoot you in the chest

The funk phenomenon, I'm bombing you like Lebanon (blow canal)
I am the amazing force of funk, destroying you like Lebanon (with explosions)

Blow canals of Panama just off stamina
I have endless energy, causing destruction like the Panama Canal

Style's not to be fucked with or played with
My style is not to be messed with or taken lightly

Fuck them pretty hoes, I love those Section 8 Bitches
Forget those attractive women, I prefer the rough ones

Hitting switches, twisting wigs with
Changing things up, making people lose their minds

Fat radical mathematical type scriptures
Big, powerful, thought-provoking lyrics

I dig up in your planets like Diga', boo
I explore your mind like a skilled archaeologist

Scared you, blew you to smithereens
I scare you and completely destroy you

Fuck the Marines, I got machines
I don't need the military, I have my own weapons

That like to spit and read Mad Magazine
That love to shoot bullets and consume violent media

I fly more heads than Continental
I defeat more people than a commercial airline

Wreck ya five times like U.S. Air off an instrumental
Conquer you repeatedly, like a plane crash, over a beat

Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks
I'm not a fake criminal with a bad appearance

But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks
But I might ruin your reputation completely

I breaks 'em off proper
I handle things correctly

Ask Biggie Smalls who shot ya
Ask the late Biggie Smalls who tried to kill him

Funk Doctor with the 12-gauge Mossberg
The Funk Doctor with a powerful shotgun

Look I got the tools like Rickle
I have the necessary skills and equipment

To make your mind tickle (yo, Red)
To make your mind feel excited (hey Red)

For the nine nickel
For the ninety-ninth time

Yo, Red (bitch-ass), yo, Red
Hey Red, you weak person

Punk-ass, pussy-ass
Coward, weakling

You ain't got the say no more, man
You have no power or control

That's it, man (word up, man)
That's the end, my friend

We out, it's over
We're leaving, it's finished

Silly-ass niggas
Stupid people