Touch The Sky (Feat. Tony Yayo)

Man, I run this rap shit
Get yo' hands up high, hands up high, hands up high
Rest in peace to Biggie Smalls
Get yo' hands up high, hands up high, hands up high (here we go)
R.I.P. to 2Pac
Get yo' hands up high, hands up high, hands up high
Nigga, roll that good shit
Get yo' hands up high, hands up high, hands up high

You wanna dance, let's dance, nigga, I take you to the prom
I'm armed, trey-pound in my palm, I'm calm, nigga
My momma made a baby boy, the hood made a man
My first 14 grams, took that and made a grand
I do this, you knew this, I told you pussy
Your fate, your death day'll fucking come if you push me
Have you like E.I. E.I., uh-oh after the four-four blow
I get low, they say I go like a pro

It's a wrap, and I'm a Ghost in the smoke like a roach
You've been clapped and in fact there's no coming back from that
I'm the last of my breed, no Henny, no weed
Just my vest and my semi in the back of the Bentley
Enage, a mirage, see I'm there, then I'm gone
'Cause my lawyers are strong and my money is long
So when I'm right I'm right, and when I'm wrong I'm right
I hit your ass up right, nigga it's nighty-night

Man, I run this rap shit
Get yo' hands up high, hands up high, hands up high
Rest in peace to Biggie Smalls
Get yo' hands up high, hands up high, hands up high
R.I.P. to 2Pac
Get yo' hands up high, hands up high, hands up high
Nigga, roll that good shit
Get yo' hands up high, hands up high, hands up high (yeah, yeah, yo, yo)

Ayo, I'm higher than a pilot, man, I catch a body, man
Beat the case, I lie on the poly-gram
These O.G.'s talking 'bout back in the days
I have a R.I.P. sign on your MySpace page (c'mon)
I'm in your top eight, nigga (what?) Drop eight, nigga
G-C-T Coupe, it's sour grape, nigga
I'm an ape, nigga, a guerilla in the mist
I hold weight, nigga, my connect got bricks

I went gold, you went platinum, we still got the same cars
Same house, and still fuck the same broads
Dreams of fucking an R&B bitch
Damn, you look good, girl, but get your teeth fixed
I'm the Teflon Don, boy, I get busy
Your next two songs, you do them shits with Pretty Ricky
Seven-sixty, drive by light tint
With two hoes in the whip looking like flint, yeah, nigga

Man, I run this rap shit
Get yo' hands up high, hands up high, hands up high (c'mon)
Rest in peace to Biggie Smalls
Get yo' hands up high, hands up high, hands up high (roll and smoke joint, man pop some liquor)
R.I.P. to 2Pac
Get yo' hands up high, hands up high, hands up high (hit 'em up, c'mon)
Nigga roll that good shit
Get yo' hands up high, hands up high, hands up high (yeah)