Music Video

High (feat. Danny Brown)
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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Freddie Gibbs
Freddie Gibbs
Vocals
Madlib
Madlib
Beats
Danny Brown
Danny Brown
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Danny Brown
Danny Brown
Songwriter
Fredrick Tipton
Fredrick Tipton
Songwriter
Otis Jackson
Otis Jackson
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Madlib
Madlib
Producer
Dave Cooley
Dave Cooley
Mastering Engineer
Josh Fadem
Josh Fadem
Recording Engineer

Lyrics

Indo, kushed out Trillest nigga living ever pushed out Never finished college like my brother or my sister I was in the crib laying on a kush cloud Getting zoned out, eyes red Momma and my daddy said my mind dead They said I never had a clue, said the bills past due Fuck you, nigga, you gotta remind Fred Cause I'm carefree, sucker-free Remember when these niggas wouldn't fuck with me But now I'm on the screen and these magazines They be trying to stop a nigga like, smoke something, G Can we get a couple grams? Nigga, hell, naw Unless you come in with the cash, tried to tell y'all I got you motherfuckers gassed on the smell, dawg So go 'head and take a hit of what I'm 'bout to sell y'all I gets high I get high, I get high, I get high (I gets high) I get so blowed, I can't stand up I'm in the bed with Elise and Amanda Cause in my shows I make them hoes put their hands up So they came back to my room, they getting rammed up We trying to slam or what? Because I'm trying to smoke So when I finish with these Swishers I'll be down your throat And two of y'all, one of me, three of us Should I hit my niggas up? Hell, naw, I'ma pound them both Cause this a one-man job, ain't no need for the crew Two snow bunnies on their knees, what it do? White snow in the crib if you need that, too Got some bitches and some bud, nigga, bring that through I gets high Early in the morning, getting high with crusty eyes Rubbing on a mother, well you know it's do or die Hopping off the porch, had to get on my grind All because the trouble just copped to my nine Back in the Caddy smoking Swishers with my nigga Make a store run, 'bout to cop out some liquor Burning down basements, face it Run a bus stop, I'm trading hoes, and you know we ain't paying Midwest livin', oven open in the kitchen Heating up the house where your shit could come up missing Dope fiend tripping cause he just copped a nick But he say he can't find it, but it's right in his pocket All day long, gotta get my profit Just poured a deuce and I'm smoking on the tropic On a different subject, lights is the topic Cause he talking money so, nigga, just stop it All day long, getting high on the low Bitch, snow bunny be sniffing that snow Twerking that summer, I really don't know Cause me, Freddie Gibbs, Madlib stay blowed Hey, are you okay? You slobbing, you okay? Is he okay? Are you okay? He shouldn't
Writer(s): Jackson Otis, Tipton Fredrick Jamel Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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