Highed Up - Curren$y

Uhh.

Yeahh

Rest In Peace Pimp C

Fool

Yeah, Uh

Some of my joints be tight, some of my joints be fucked up

But all my joints gon' smoke so G’s gon' get highed up

Fuck all that shit you talk

You ain’t got no Byzantine chain

Chutes & Ladders, Chevy’s — candy canes

Bitches tangled in my slang — pilot language

We assassinate them lames

Flash my high beams

Get the fuck up out our lane

Say Trade, I swear this shit going how we planned it

Less a couple niggas though, I ain’t really trippin' though

See 'em when we see 'em

Send 'em bottles and a couple hoes

Spread love is the Jet way

All day, me and my bitch ridin' to that Biggie

Up to Texas choppin' wit big Bun up out a meal ticket

Real niggas from my set know I still kick it

Others be like I don’t fuck with 'em

That’s why I don’t fuck with 'em

I don’t know why though, I ain’t ever fuck with 'em

Would never do that to 'em, if I came up with 'em

Well fuck niggas

We roll up bigger than you used to seein'

Smokin' em in places you ain’t used to bein'

This is trill nigga season

Real niggas eatin', scrap

Get the scraps if we leave em

Yeah

Some of my joints be tight, some of my joints be fucked up

But all my joints gon' smoke so G’s gon get highed up

Some of my joints be tight, some of my joints be fucked up

But all my joints gon' smoke so my bitches get highed up