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three high - 3 high lyrics

sleepy:
i throw my threes up like ray allen, james harden, larry bird, dirk, steven
kerr and stephon curry.
wit 3 seconds on the line i’m in a hurry. i’m automatic with the 3 there’s
no worry.
i’m robert horry in the clutch, i hit buckets they go nuts, and i got that
speed
and that flow and i won’t ever slow up. show up if it’s a showdown then i
come for the
crown, toss it around, let it hit the ground cuz i don’t need it now i’m
speaking how ever i want,
but i’m supposed to watch my f-cking mouth, but i don’t know how. so f-ck
you now and f-ck you then
i’m after benjamin’s, jackson’s and drew a map like we on treasured land.
said they hearts were full of gold, ponyboy, they full of sand.
and these little boy rappers need someone to hold their hand.
and these no name labels want all the dough that they can.
and the people high up gonna choose what’s in demand
so if you ain’t got a reputation why you tryna scam? because

(chorus):
we here and we ain’t ever leaving.
if you wit us then let me hear you
scream it.
3 high put your three’s up to the ceilin.
3 high it’s not a number it’s a feelin.
if you feelin how i’m feelin put your three’s to the ceilin.

dp3:
i’m back at em like whattup, whattup tell me ya’ll what’s happening?
another bad reaction dog you know i’m bout to snap again.
and we on track again. sicker than a pathogen.
it’s other n-gg-s in the race but f-ck it yo we lappin them.
the game needed something new thats where i factor in.
and we breakin new ground tell em bring the tractors in.
these other cats will sell they soul if it cashes in.
there comes a point you gotta stand for something like an acronym.
another verse for the hip hop heads and how we all felt when nas told us
hip hop dead.
these dance rappers try to see me with a p-ssed off pen.
will have em like the clown posse when the p-ssed of em. i’m sayin
i’m different from the cats thats making all that bunk sh-t.
the ones with no substance as long as it’s some crunk sh-t.
i hate to brag but i’m flexin on that funk sh-t,
i make my own luck was never on that daft punk sh-t.

visa:
back with a vengeance. if kendrick came to kill the game, you know i’m
swinging at fences.
n-gg-s don’t smell what i’m stepping in.
if you can’t hold a candle to me, what f-ck is you doing ever testin my
next of kin?
no days off. relentless. work hard as mexicans.
with no warning beat up the b-ss til it’s deafening.
faceoff wit three high in the booth, it’s definite.
call the coroner. he’s signing out death certificates.
ripping whole syndicates and motherf-ck a gimmick b-tch.
blowing that loud, feel like i popped a pill outta limitless.
“killing you n-gg-s” only thing scribbled on my bucket list.
flamethrowers in an army of three.
f-ck is you throwing stones for if you know that we bang boulders?
the same gang that known to freeze bank corners.
line up ya favorite emcees, i’ma knockout artist like black norris.

- three high lyrics

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