Twista, Ludacris - Higher lyrics
[Twista, Ludacris - Higher lyrics]
Yeah, you know it's about to go down right?
(Yeeah) Got to let them know
Who is this? (Ludacris)
And who else nigga? (Twista, wooo, ahhh)
Uh, uh (Check it out)
Sometimes I think that I got to see
A little bit of brighter days
Cause I could find myself to a city
Near you in a solid cage
And you could look to the left or the
Right but I'm trapped on center stage
And I could rap to the beat
But I don't know how to change my ways
I still hear a fool and
I track them, distract them, and whack them
Jack a nigga for the Damon Dames
And I yak them, attack them, and sack them
Get a weapon and I crack his
Brain cause I'm a hustler, baller, pro
And it wouldn't be right for me
To be around busters, and crawlers, and hoes
But I'm a pimp at night
So talk shit and I'm a lift
Them up off of they toes
With a street sweeper regulating
Quarters, and ki's, and o's
In a two-seater
Ludacris and Twista with bags of dro
Smoking, choking, get them open, croaking
It's so potent - I'm hoping
To keep on floating
I'm soaking wet and you can bet
People I'm high i'm seeing lions
And tigers and bears - oh my!
And I can't hide it or keep it hidden
Good riddance I'm feeling good
I'm weapon-concealing
Stealing my neighborhood
Would, could, and should break a nigga off
They'll see you later, go to the doctor
Hold my balls and (cough)
You caught the vapors and I
Caught the throne, brain blown
Honey I'm home
Give me the microphone, and fools is like
"leave me alone!"
Throw it up if you get high, get blow
Get drunk
If you want what I'm on, come on and kick it
Let's ride, smoke dro, beat the trunk
All the bad ass bitches that want to party
Just shake it, great players get pumped
Me and my thugs, and hustlers in the party
Get money fuck hoes, get crunk
(Look out) I put a little bit of
Hash on some motherfucking purple haze
I feel it all in my body
Adrenaline with the Bacaradi
Got me all filthy, ripping shit in a rage
In navy blue platinum, he by the Belly, Gucci
Timberland stepping on the petal up
In the Cadillac truck
Want to get me for the wood
Better get the whole motherfucking
Hood to come and give you some back up
We can get into it and if you want to do it
I'm leaking the fluids out of the bodies
That want to come at this
Empty out buckets of blood for
Fucking with thugs that'll bury
My adversaries better not want none of Twis'
Represent for my city
Anybody that different with me
Got to get him for thinking it's a game
And whether you from my city or not
Talk shit
I'mma kill him especially if he say my name
I've been up on him - I handle my business
And I'm a stick him up for
The scrilla, from K Tilla
Smoking on a fat piller
Murder haters that don't feel a
Niggas claiming they want to bring it
But really don't be killers
Balling out so hard the size of my
Rims grow to a hellafied sight-scene
When the dough become no bigger
I'ma flip or drop that 2000 on yo - 19
Throw it up if you get high, get blow
Get drunk
If you want what I'm on, come on and kick it
Let's ride, smoke dro, beat the trunk
All the bad ass bitches that want to party
Just shake it, great players get pumped
Me and my thugs, and hustlers in the party
Get money fuck hoes, get crunk
When balling out of control, I
Floss on, flame on, pimp on
A speed deamon
Pedal to the metal when I'm in the zone
Hang on cause here I'm gone
In the motherfucking wind when
I'm sippin on Henn'
I got cake, while you owe something
And I done came a long way
From letting me hold something
To roll something
Find a victim and fill him wit venom
And put some adrenaline in him, kill him
And send him to the cemetery
With a flow full of horror like a poltergeist
He called to Christ
When he saw how many men I buried
Shit, and when it come to chiefing good
Nigga who that? do that, I got the sack open
And the herb got the flow so strong
That I might crack the track
Go back to back smoking
Never coming up when the Mob's in need
Nigga you ain't untouchable when
I spark the heat
Coming at you like sharks to meat
'Til blood start to leak
I can tell when a mark's heart is weak
Come fully loaded cause I'm hard to beat
Always screaming where the drink
And the dro at? You know we love that cut up
In the back of the club
With purple in the bag, chronic
Twis' and Ludacris get fucked up
Throw it up if you get high, get blow
Get drunk
If you want what I'm on, come on and kick it
Let's ride, smoke dro, beat the trunk
All the bad ass bitches that want to party
Just shake it, great players get pumped
Me and my thugs, and hustlers in the party
Get money fuck hoes, get crunk
Pass me the let me smoke my
Yeeah, this a Wildstyle production
Twista and Ludacris collabo, get it, get it
Get it, uh, yeeah
(Yeeah) Got to let them know
Who is this? (Ludacris)
And who else nigga? (Twista, wooo, ahhh)
Uh, uh (Check it out)
Sometimes I think that I got to see
A little bit of brighter days
Cause I could find myself to a city
Near you in a solid cage
And you could look to the left or the
Right but I'm trapped on center stage
And I could rap to the beat
But I don't know how to change my ways
I still hear a fool and
I track them, distract them, and whack them
Jack a nigga for the Damon Dames
And I yak them, attack them, and sack them
Get a weapon and I crack his
Brain cause I'm a hustler, baller, pro
And it wouldn't be right for me
To be around busters, and crawlers, and hoes
But I'm a pimp at night
So talk shit and I'm a lift
Them up off of they toes
With a street sweeper regulating
Quarters, and ki's, and o's
In a two-seater
Ludacris and Twista with bags of dro
Smoking, choking, get them open, croaking
It's so potent - I'm hoping
To keep on floating
I'm soaking wet and you can bet
People I'm high i'm seeing lions
And tigers and bears - oh my!
And I can't hide it or keep it hidden
Good riddance I'm feeling good
I'm weapon-concealing
Stealing my neighborhood
Would, could, and should break a nigga off
They'll see you later, go to the doctor
Hold my balls and (cough)
You caught the vapors and I
Caught the throne, brain blown
Honey I'm home
Give me the microphone, and fools is like
"leave me alone!"
Throw it up if you get high, get blow
Get drunk
If you want what I'm on, come on and kick it
Let's ride, smoke dro, beat the trunk
All the bad ass bitches that want to party
Just shake it, great players get pumped
Me and my thugs, and hustlers in the party
Get money fuck hoes, get crunk
(Look out) I put a little bit of
Hash on some motherfucking purple haze
I feel it all in my body
Adrenaline with the Bacaradi
Got me all filthy, ripping shit in a rage
In navy blue platinum, he by the Belly, Gucci
Timberland stepping on the petal up
In the Cadillac truck
Want to get me for the wood
Better get the whole motherfucking
Hood to come and give you some back up
We can get into it and if you want to do it
I'm leaking the fluids out of the bodies
That want to come at this
Empty out buckets of blood for
Fucking with thugs that'll bury
My adversaries better not want none of Twis'
Represent for my city
Anybody that different with me
Got to get him for thinking it's a game
And whether you from my city or not
Talk shit
I'mma kill him especially if he say my name
I've been up on him - I handle my business
And I'm a stick him up for
The scrilla, from K Tilla
Smoking on a fat piller
Murder haters that don't feel a
Niggas claiming they want to bring it
But really don't be killers
Balling out so hard the size of my
Rims grow to a hellafied sight-scene
When the dough become no bigger
I'ma flip or drop that 2000 on yo - 19
Throw it up if you get high, get blow
Get drunk
If you want what I'm on, come on and kick it
Let's ride, smoke dro, beat the trunk
All the bad ass bitches that want to party
Just shake it, great players get pumped
Me and my thugs, and hustlers in the party
Get money fuck hoes, get crunk
When balling out of control, I
Floss on, flame on, pimp on
A speed deamon
Pedal to the metal when I'm in the zone
Hang on cause here I'm gone
In the motherfucking wind when
I'm sippin on Henn'
I got cake, while you owe something
And I done came a long way
From letting me hold something
To roll something
Find a victim and fill him wit venom
And put some adrenaline in him, kill him
And send him to the cemetery
With a flow full of horror like a poltergeist
He called to Christ
When he saw how many men I buried
Shit, and when it come to chiefing good
Nigga who that? do that, I got the sack open
And the herb got the flow so strong
That I might crack the track
Go back to back smoking
Never coming up when the Mob's in need
Nigga you ain't untouchable when
I spark the heat
Coming at you like sharks to meat
'Til blood start to leak
I can tell when a mark's heart is weak
Come fully loaded cause I'm hard to beat
Always screaming where the drink
And the dro at? You know we love that cut up
In the back of the club
With purple in the bag, chronic
Twis' and Ludacris get fucked up
Throw it up if you get high, get blow
Get drunk
If you want what I'm on, come on and kick it
Let's ride, smoke dro, beat the trunk
All the bad ass bitches that want to party
Just shake it, great players get pumped
Me and my thugs, and hustlers in the party
Get money fuck hoes, get crunk
Pass me the let me smoke my
Yeeah, this a Wildstyle production
Twista and Ludacris collabo, get it, get it
Get it, uh, yeeah