Lyrics:
the pit of your soul
This is the high-grade shit and you know
I could've been a doctor, earned a living properly
Never had to worry about no cops
bloodshed
Cursed in converses, dead in Pro Keds
Now every Tom, Dick, Harry or Joe Smith
Skip the spauldings, pony's, and k-swiss
High school and college
Ital nuh wah nuh blem
Eye red like Ink frm pen
Yeah
Mi love smoke wid mi friends
Nuff joy when we a medz
High grade it mek yhu feel nice
It Nuh crash yhu
music we made had us all wearing shades now (cool)
"Where you stay?"
She said, "Down the street from Dominguez High"
Okay, I know that's borderline
my best friend drive
She said, "How does it feel to be you?"
I said, "It's alright, I really think I peaked in high school"
She said, "That isn't
Santa
When dem high grades one sell a me
Well westmoreland, mi ganja from
Ganja from
Ganja from
Hey na na na a westmoreland
Ina di rumble
on the high tip
High tower now I really got pop shh (wooh)
Aaah you think darkness is your ally
You merely adopted the dark
I was born in it
Molded by it
(Uh uh
Yea
High Grade
cyo this gon need way more than air conditioning
Yea
I worked my whole life just to feel like this
Ice cooler filled to the brim
and suspension was an always
By the time high school it was the hallways
Them was the wish I had a car days
'cause all the stewards that was
Trapping they was all
I'm on my wave
I'm gon' ride this high
Blunt by my side
I ain't giving up
Put that on my eye
We ain't gon' give it up
I love my wave
And I
helped
Wish I picked up the phone
I was chasing one more high as your spirit returned home
Just wish I could see your face
Show you where you could have
of
Sounds like this
Or you know
That sort of thing
I started
Sort of tapping
It annoyed the crap
Out of
My fourth-grade teacher
Ms. Frechette
She was
how to edit and learned that that myself haven't been to college
But I'm still doing well like
Grades high school
You should stay in it don't just
get ya grades up
Uh what you talking like
Catch me walking like
I hope ya walking right
I do my thing often, keeping em talking
High ceilings for all
And as a young lil nigga I couldn't find out my worth, man
Let's skip to fourth grade
When I rocked a temp fade
I was hitting licks with my friends trynna get
I am owed nothing in this life
Everything is earned under the grace of god my nigga, so pay homage
Danielsan
I'm a Falcon flying high in the sky
you get out of grade school
You got high school
And its revving up
The thing is coming
Then you're gonna go to college
And then graduate school
And when
laugh you out of the circle
But I stay high on the secret, I'm on laws of attraction
I only speak with certainty I never pause for retraction
We geometric
and Alizé by di case
Guinness and Heineken just in case
Moët run out, we start stout off wi face
Five hundred dollar bag a high grade blow gone a space
with us
Then you ain't going my way
I feel happy in my hoody on a Friday
With caps and kicks
Pack the spliff full of high grade
I feel happy in my hoody
it, feel it
Bone it, own it, yeah, yeah
Dollar, dollar, paper, chase it
Get that money, yeah, yeah
You get high, fuck a bunch of girls
And then
it, feel it
Bone it, own it, yeah, yeah
Dollar, dollar, paper, chase it
Get that money, yeah, yeah
You get high, fuck a bunch of girls
And then
Back in high school, Tamika was the sweetest, the bomb
Hot to death, though in tenth grade a teenage mom
Knocked up by some thug named Russ in
Infrared
Higher than
Mount Everest
Roll one
Light one
Get high man
Just ganja
Pon my mind
Just Smoke weed
And fly by
No hitchhikers
Yo Driver
Don't stop
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