Higher (feat. Ludacris)

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 day to days 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 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 felling 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— 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 badass 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'ma 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 feela 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 and... your 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 badass 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 sipping on Henney 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 with 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 badass 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— Yeah, this a Wildstyle production Twista and Ludacris collabo, get it, get it Get it, uh, yeah