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How High easy guitar chords by
Redman
Redman

N/A
Verse 1
Am

Takin' it from the top? (Top)

Tippy? (tippy)

Come on, my people

Sing it, daddy
C
Am

Hey (ooh-wee)

We rock
Em

Ha (ah), ha ha
Am

Ha ha (aha)
C
Am

Taking my mind where it's nev
Em
Am
Em

er gone before
Am

And so like a mushroom in cow shit
Em

And I'm taking it just to get
Am
Em

the ultimate high, baby
Am
Em
Am
Em

The ultimate high, ohh
Am
Excuse
Verse 2

me as I kiss the sky

Sing a song of sixpence,

a pocket full a rye

Who the fuck wanna die for their culture?

Stalk the dead body like a vulture,

Ticalion, hmm

Blacker than your blackest stallion
Em

Hit your housing projects
Am

I represent yo' Shaolin, my nigga
C

Now yes, Apocalypse now, the gun pow
Am

It be going down,
Em
Am
Em

diggy diggy down, diggy down down
Am
While the planets
Verse 3

and the stars

and the moons collapse

When I raise my trigger finger all
Em
Am

y'all niggas hit the deck

'Cause ain't no need for that,

hustlers and hardcore

Raw to the floor, raw like Reservoir Dogs

The Green-Eyed Bandit
C
Am

Bandit can't stand it

With more fruitier loops than that
Em
Am

Tou can Sam bitch

Plus the Bombazee got me wide

Fucking with us
Em
Am
Em

Is a straight sui cide
Am
Ten,
Verse 4

nine, eight, seven, six, five, four

Three, two,
Em

murder one lyric at your door
Am

Tical bring it to that ass raw

Breaking all the rules like glass jaws
Em
Am

Nigga, you got to get mines to

get yours

Fucka, we don't need no rap tour
Em
Am
Em

I'd rather kick the facts and catch
Am

you with the rap-ture
C

More More than you bargained for
Am
Em
Am
Em

Tical, I stays open like an all night
Am

store (yeah, yeah, ah)

For real I keeps it ill like

a piece of blue steel
Em
Am

Pointed at your temple

with the intent to kill
C

And end your existence, M-E-T
Am

Ain't Ain't Ain't no use
Em

for resistance, H-O-D
Am
I I I bees the ultimate
Verse 5

rush

to any nigga on dust

The Egyptian Musk used
Em
Am

to have me pull mad sluts

I shift like a clutch with the Ruck

Examine my nuts,

I don't stop 'til I get enough

Your shit broke down, light your flare

Since the dark side tears you
Em
Am

into Hollywood Squares
C
Am

Six million ways to die, so I chose
Em
Am

Made it six million and one with your
Em
Am
Em

eyes closed
Am

The blindfold cold,

so you can feel the wrath
Em

And shatter the glass and second
Am
Em
Am

half on your funky ass
C
Am

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

Bitches used to play me now they
Em
Am

can't forget me now

They get me mad, I rock the spot,

check Glock

Empty off a licking off a hip-hop

Fuck Fuck the Billboard,
C
Am

I'm a bullet on my block

How you dope when you paid

for your Billboard spot?
Verse 6
Am

Look up in the sky,
C
Am

it's a bird, it's a plane
Em
Am

It's the Funk Doctor Spot
Em
Am
Em
Am

smoking buddha on a train
Em
Am

How high? So high that I can kiss the sky
C
Am
Em

How sick? So sick that you can
Am
Em
Am

suck my dick (uh)

Look up in the sky it's a bird
C
Am

it's a plane
Em
Am

Recognize Johnny Blaze,
Em
Am
Em

ain't a damn thing changed
Am
C

How high? So high that I can kiss the sky
Am
Em

How sick? So sick that
Am

you can suck my dick
Verse 7
C
Am

'Til my man Raider Ruckus come home

It ain't really on 'til the Ruckus get,

home

Puff a meth bone,
C
Am

now I'm off to the red zone

We don't need your dirt weed,

we got our fucking own
C

Check it, I wreaks havoc with my hectic
Am

Bring the Pain lyrics,
Em
Am

screaming for the antiseptic
Em
Am

Moving on your left,

kid, and I'm Method
C
Am
Em

Out my fucking dome piece,
Am
Em

plus I got no love for the beast
Am

Hailing from the big East Coast,

where niggas pack toast
Em
Am

Home of the drug
Em

kingpins and cut throats
Am
Hey boy,
Verse 8
C
Am

you the rude boy on the block

You try to stop the bum rush,
Em

you will get popped
Am
As
Verse 9
C

I run a mile with a racist
Am

My style was born in the
Em

pissy staircases
Am
Em
Am

Dig it, F a rap critic
C
Am
Em

He talk about it while I live it
Am

If Red got the blunt,
Em
C

I'm the second one to hit it
Verse 10
Am

Look up in the, I got the verbs,
C
Am

nouns and Glocks in ya

Enter the center,

lyrics bang like Ricochet Rabbit

I brings havoc with an AK 'matic, rolling
Em
Am

blunts an all day habit
C

I get it on like Smith & Wes', who

clique's the best?
Am
Em
Am
Em

Punks take a sip and test,
Am

who splits your vest?

The funk phenomenon,
C
Am

I'm bombing you like Lebanon (blow canal)
Em

Blow canals of Panama just
Am

off stamina

Style's not to be fucked

with or played with

Fuck them pretty hoes,
Em
Am
Em
Am

I love those Sec tion 8 Bitches
C

Hitting switches, twisting wigs with
Am
Em
Am

Fat radical mathematical type scriptures
C

I dig up in your planets like
Am

Diga', boo
Am

Scared you, blew you to smithereens

Fuck the Marines, I got machines
Em
Am
Em
Am

That like to spit and read Mad Magazine

I fly more heads than Continental

Wreck ya five times like U.S.

Air off an instrumental

Look I'm not a half way

crook with bad looks

But I may murder your case like
Em
Am

your name was Cal Brooks

I breaks 'em off proper

Ask Biggie Smalls who shot ya
Em
Am

Funk Doc tor with the
Em
Am

12-gauge Mossberg

Look I got the tools like Rickle

To make your mind tickle (yo, Red)
Verse 11

For the nine nickel
Am

Yo, Red (bitch-ass), yo, Red

Punk-ass, pussy-ass
Am

You You You ain't got the say no more,

man

That's it, man (word up, man)

We out, it's over
Am

Silly-ass niggas

niggas

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Chords
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  • C

  • Em

Capo: 2

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