Music Makes Me High

Bizzy:
Yeah. Supervision.

If you look into my eyes. If you look into my eyes (tell me what you see.) Tell
me what you see, you see ...

If you look into my eyes, tell me what you see, you see ...

Bizzy:
See, they don understand me. Ie been through him, and him, and him, and then
come at m again. I know that in the pen, and figgas for you and them.
Evil creepinon my people. Chances are slim. Be married to the music. Boom! Hit
the stage, ready to die for it, cry for it. Cut the games. Many tried for it,
lied for it, get a catchy chorus and fly for it. Take orbit, let gravity be
your fortress tonight. Elevate your brain, hold your heart and just sing, ause
gracefully we age through all the pain. Sentiments in rain. Evidence of it
heavenly fangs distained for my explanation on ane. The fame was the sum of
our money, chained in a murder, murder shame, with a pistol and a p*ssed-off
bang! Well, then let me finish with thug love. I off to hit the club with the
bud and the track, hit the mud. Keep the gun, it my first love.

Tell me what you see, you see ... If you look into my eyes.

Supervision:
I making love to my music, my music. My music makes me high.
(Bizzy: Tell me what you see, you see ... If you look into my eyes.)

Supervision:
I making love to my music, like my music my lady. Sippinon Brandi,
intoxicated. Humminto __. And i chillinwith Krayzie, and we high off that
Thai. My reason why, like R. Kelly, I believe I can fly. And plus, around me I
can see, my vision clouded. Premeditate m or bust, and please label me out
it, out it. As I collect my thoughts, take me a breath. God bless my homie
insert name, he took one in the chest. And yes, but he still here to rap a
song, just another day. While ya bullshhhhh, crack the top on that Alize! ause
we don play in this land of the loc, where brothers, they smoke trees up with
dust, and see, they bleed. Then they plead. uase i on top, straight ballin
Makinlove to my woman, but my music steady callin and never stallin But it
comes to me, you should please let me have prophecy, yes, I make love to my
music. I makinlove ...

Krayzie:
I love music. Any kind of music, as long as it pumpinto keep me thuggin self
in check. Maintain the mentality I got to keep my composure, and music the
perfect potion. When i coastinroll a blunt up, roll m up. Put some of them
jams on. And, nigg*, we zonein so put on some old school, homie, let hit the
dance floor. Music really makes me happy. When i stressin mental hot, I put
on some instrumentals. Stop, I think about what I done been through. I put it
to paper, then put it to wax, and kick some facts, sit back and relax, now
everything is all right. If it wasn for this music, i be dead, fk a jail,
ause a nigg* ain never goinback to that hell. Feel me. Kill me. And if it
wasn for the man upstairs blessing me with talent, like the average thug
nigg*, would I vanish? But this platinum got us established. Got us
living lavish. Apply yourself, survival tactics, nigg*, and yll can have it.
Even though it stress and strain in the game, one thing I can do is ... Is
stop the music.

Supervision:
I making love to my music, my music. My music makes me high.
(Bizzy: Tell me what you see, you see ... If you look into my eyes.)

Layzie:
nigg*, it don't stop, and it won't stop ause i just can't quit. This game be
runninthrough my veins with nothinbut platinum hits. And nigg* it don't stop,
ause it won't stop, ause it just don't quit. This game be runninthrough my
veins with nothinbut platinum s**t. nigg* I gotsta have it. It like automatic
rounds when I put this down. Constantly fkin up instrumentals, you remember
that thuggish ruggish sound. You can feel the love goin through the speakers,
creepin livinlife on the deep end. Better believe you won catch me sleepin
put up a beat and I heat, dismiss the flames. nigg*, cut the games, me and my
music we sleep and eat together. We hop in the Benz, get off in the winds, and
we run the streets together. And we on a mission to stick up the industry full
throttle. Mo Thugs, mo money the motto, so, nigg*, the slugs that I bring come
hollow. nigg* we can do this in the song, or nigg* we can do this in person.
Whatever you do when you cross the gunline boss, little Lay'll be puttinhis
work in. ause me and my music, nigg*, we don't take that s**t. nigg*, put the
pen to the pad, get mad and I break that b*tch. nigg*, it's just the thug in
me, mixed up with the indo and the OlE. When I drop this thugsta poetry, I
make all y'all know who the fk I be, !

Supervision:
I making love to my music, my music. My music makes me high.
(Bizzy: Tell me what you see, you see ... If you look into my eyes.)