High

[Verse 1: Jean Grae]
Claiming the city is mine, prettiest dime
I don’t like the way that people defending Kelly in public
Why it’s spoken on the verse? Quote it, a similar intro
Who’s gonna get it? Distant, feeling this glamour, tatted
Below the shoulders spelling, “Jean Grae.” Inside
Picket fences and larger houses, them fuckers imitating
My life of living is a constant struggle, juggled
With empty hands, troubled and worried about the future plans
Hoping God’s looking out of high windows. Keep
Climbing, keep falling back, sip a little Cognac
Hating many, holding pennies inside of the wallet instead
Of dollars—holler if you feel it. The quest for dollar, sour
Green and achievement, bleed until my final hour, believe it
This hunger never quits, it only grows deeper
Get high, try to get my burn on like a ton of reefer
I’m a fiend, state of my mind is all green

[Verse 2: Jean Grae]
You don’t
Even respect the history or bother to notice, street and
The feds is red enough, somebody’s child is laying dead
But fuck it, we use it in a single
Most of you using less, bars and more hooks
Jiggling titties, sell a song and crooks
And criminals in Entourage, and nobody’s wrong—come off it
I’ve seen a puff and plenty. In case your face is friendly
Could never kill, I’m ruthless only for the mic. Defend me?
Never. You could keep your cases for shit. I’m chasing this
Dream, running a thousand feet in the sand, envisioning cream
Replacing rock, hitting brick walls, door shut
Take my picture, blow it up, post it on construction promo
Fighting it solo, companies shook to rock the boat
Alone in it, praying like Charlie for golden tickets
I’m sick of women diminished by bitches claiming they kick it, Written strictly from the heart, skin will never be seen
Not for green

[Verse 3: Jean Grae]
Niggas dying in troves
Higher than kites, blood on their flyest clothes
Lying hoes, reppin' women stripping, neglecting their children
Deconstructing education as quick as they could be gaining
Elevation, but it’s always easy to dumb it. You want it?
You got it, a nation of instant gratification, either
Microwaving or speeding ‘cause some fast cars are backed up
And scheming to reach in, American dreaming is catching up
I mean, you’re walking home and might get hit by a sniper
Life is always unappreciated, especially us
It could be genocide for certain unless we straighten it up
Awake and take control and be the colors we blush. Creation
Never meant to only get as far as a bus. Forsaken
All the splendor rendered us blind, thinking the world on recline
Watch Green Mile to open my mind and take me
Other places with Michael Duncan and Tom—you gotta feel me
Too much of something’s never good, keep it only for
Nights, so in my dreams, state of mind’s all green