state supreme I see the world through different skies Are you saying good bye Are you ready to fly Are you coming away Are you going to stay High to
a quarter of some sheeeiit, I'm the Pookey of the backyard All colors and all types like a junkyard High young boy with high young ways 'Cuz I connect three blunts and be high
Da 5'9"] New money, quite powerful mic module Green ducats, black models, white bottles Packed house, you lookin at the wrong nigga Long digits, we can bet the farm who farm
and inclined to get lyrical Checkin' for residuals, rhymin' be the ritual Ill individual, bad habitat, watch my voice battle cats While I'm spittin' battle raps On the high
Now down the road just a mile or two Lives a little girl named Pearly Blue About so high and her hair is brown The Prettiest thing boys in this town
the bubble head boys To push their flags into powdered soils and cry No second placers No smart looking geese in bonnets Dance with pigs in high button trousers No milk pail for the farmer
I?m on a haystack kickin? back three bails high A flatbed stage and a full moon light Party on the farm all night long With the moonshine flowin' till
the bookkeeper, not for the banker The margin's thin on treatin' large animals unless it's a purebred or, more understandable, a racehorse of some kind You see son, city folks pay a high
rude in the place With a gun in my waist I just might pop out slugs With a straight arm Bullets stomp through your Phat Farm till the animals jump out
hills are very high And so is the hill of Howth sir But there's a hill much higher still Much higher than them both sir On top of this high hill
fight for the rights of the working man, the small farmer too Protect the proletariat from the bosses and their screws So hold on to your rifles, boys
-chi Threesome, got your boy Little Freaky So high, everything lookin 3D Orgys to the weewee, the sleepy But I'm just sayin though, Wiggy, Wiggy Outsmart the piggy Them Dopehouse boys
it Superstar honey, so mean and vicious Got a lot and comin', I'm so mean and vicious Bark, bark farmer, this chicken layin' platinum ex-farmer So go
she don't leave the farm herself to get paid Candice on twaps cause she love the ball Thought she had the nizzle on the dresses at the mall Buyin, high
dry Keep our spirit levels high Sometimes, I miss my River Tyne But you're my pretty frylein Tonight we'll drink the old town dry Keep our spirit levels high
the heart of medina About to set off something more deep than a misdemeanor Under the subway, waiting for the train to make noise So I can blast a nigga and his boys
ya hands up put 'em together like this C'mon c'mon nappy roots in thiswhoo Kentucky mud is the yeah so throw ya hands up high high Put 'em together like
block It don't stop, and it be quick to give your pistol a cock We got bars and stripes, boy and sprites Polite on mics the type of cats that keep boys