How High (feat. Pete Rosza)

Yeah huh yeah uh

I’m bout to take you

I’m bout to take

I’m bout to take you

So high that I can touch the sky hey

Chris White Here I go

I’m bout to take you

This is a set, silk robe, silk boxer

Looking fresh

more fly more blessed

New year, no tears, no stress

I’m running out space in my safe

Rainy day money got me bout to gas up jet

Pick an island, whose flyer?

They inspired, by my attire

Black on black tires

Smoked out 6 dark tint

who’s riding,Never sat shotgun

always been the driver

I can get you to your destination

You know I’m bout it no hesitation

Chris White does nothing basic

Next time I might pulled up in spaceship

Don’t put it pass me

James Webb Can’t find me

tell nasa to at me

I’m that high

 

Chorus

 

How high

How high

So high that I can touch the sky hey

How high

How high

How high

So high that I can touch the sky hey

There’s levels to having luxury

You either burn your bread or save for rainy day

My whole year was a vacay

When you catch up I’ll be in another galaxy

Y’all living a fallacy

that P.U.A. had you up

living comfortably

now they starving

Them pills got you nodding

My 48 hours in Vegas was like to Rodmans

 Huston we got a problem

The math ain’t mathing

When I exchange dollar

passport looks like

It was scribbled in by toddlers

Big boy rides

I never push a charger

Raised in projects

I lived in the Carter

So I been dope

faded off second hand smoke

Since a infant

I been up to mischief

Inhaled, control substances

 I been high

Chorus

How high

How high

So high that I can touch the sky (hey)

How high

How high

How high

So high that I can touch the sky

Back when you Ni**a’s had acne

I was in the streets you could never back pack me

self appointed Goat I’m that actually

now a days ni** a’s act sassy

Hello I’m from the ghetto

what big was talking bout I’m that ashy

fresh Windsor white pin strips

 now I’m that classy

so high that I can kiss the sky

gotta hit it Twice than pass it

they wanna no why we so fly

tell them it’s just fashion

I will never catch you ni**a’s in traffic

or Miami it look better when I passing

on my way to Cartagena

ni**as is local I’m on the beach Lemonada de cocos

sipping Rose draped in rojo

I ain’t blooding I ain’t cropping either

 if you heard I was tripping

you better believe it

who getting money there don’t temp me

my face card good every where global entry

 exit row 5’8 so its hella spacious

shot of casa Migos now it’s to the basics

391 valley road steel sharpen steel

hittem with the hear I go

 Chris white voice ni**as

Written by Chrisden White, Peter Hall jr.