So High

Album cover art for "So High" by Hustle Gang & T.I. & Young Dro & London Jae & Peanut Da Don

Hustle Gang & T.I. & Young Dro & London Jae & Peanut Da Don - Rap

So High

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Duration: 3:28

Lyrics

[Chorus: London Jae] Yeah Up, I'm up so high, I'm on the moon I believe I can fly on the moon Floating away like I'm a balloon, yeah I get, I get so high on the moon [Verse 1: London Jae] Way too fucking young to fly Yeah, I'm way too fucking young to die I'm way too fucking real to chill I'm way too fucking ill for real, lego Got a Jamaican, she gon' roll it up for me, let's smoke Back and forth, out of fucking country, Rio, we go I put my fucking footprints up on the moon I got high and got a room, made a pool full of shrooms How cool, I was dreaming I met a bitch at the bar Yeah, she didn't hesitate, she jumped right in the car Yeah, she asked me, how much weed are we gonna do? I told her, shoot at the moon and she might hit her a star, yeah, yeah [Chorus: London Jae] Yeah Up, I'm up so high, I'm on the moon I believe I can fly on the moon Floating away like I'm a balloon, yeah I get, I get so high on the moon [Verse 2: Peanut da Don] On that moon, moon rock get high with my boys See more stars than a hip-hop award Aye, let me shout out to God There go Busta, sitting swole wearing thirty chain We with the Snoop, rolling cookies on a paper plane Mixing seven different flavors trying to make a name I get so high, if I ever cry it'll probably fucking rain Uh, blazing up that made hell sweat Backwood stuff with that eighth, I know you smell that Weed man a day away he got to mail that Inhale that purple pill, Percocet, I don't sell that I be higher than noon, where the 12 at? Geeked up, flow me a rain ditch, you like a jail pet [Chorus: London Jae] Yeah Up, I'm up so high, I'm on the moon I believe I can fly on the moon Floating away like I'm a balloon, yeah I get, I get so high on the moon [Verse 3: Yung Dro] I'm actually over seas in the castle of trap In this natural hustling radical,  we're no compatible Killing is in me, your jeans too skinny to run from the calico Dope on the avenue, polo is lavender, murder, murder, murder, tactical This is a trap, this is the block, order, order, order, magical People are racing the condo, getting dust rolled but young dro And head honcho I was born in the condo, if a nigga want to catch a fade Get beat like bongos Rhyme on rhyme, hurts an old Cutlass, fo-fo, two butknicks I got a stick in the motor and not with you, bitch I will shoot you and your lil' slut bitch [Verse 4: T.I.] Yeah, alway been blessed, we ain't never been lucky Mine always on mind, no time for that fuck shit Yeah, we're taught to get a quarter ki and push it C-can't you rip the pillow, aight koosh Yeah, we get the old Charger country rookie So when class in session, don't be playing hooky Moon rock in my QP and a [?] Loose leaf, pop a Percocet, get some alcohol and a little buzz I'm gone, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah [Chorus: London Jae] Yeah Up, I'm up so high, I'm on the moon I believe I can fly on the moon Floating away like I'm a balloon, yeah I get, I get so high on the moon

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Credits

Writers
  • Homer Steinweiss
  • Toby Pazner
  • Leon Michels
  • Lee Fields
  • Thomas Brenneck
  • Peanut Da Don
  • London Jae
  • Young Dro
  • T.I.
  • Jeff Dynamite