Postin’ High Masta Ace
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Postin’ High" by Masta Ace. Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
[Verse 1]
Here we go, we're on the late night tip
Master Ace with a tight grip
Tight enough to hold the crowd, control the loud
People, they gather to hear a rather proud
Brother, originator of the third power
Action the posse grows just like a flower
Check it out, here's the scene
The nightclub, you know what I mean
The dancefloor - nuff heads
Gucci girls, a few tuff dreads
Homeboys dipped in silky
Leather seats in the Benzes often milky
Cuban link, a lotta Moet to drink
Cash spent as fast as you blink
And all you hear is (go, go, go)
None of these folks are livin' low
They're livin' on the (high)
(High)
You're postin' high
[Verse 2]
Yo, look at slim (word) she's soft as satin
Livin' on the upper west side of Manhattan
She's paid, I mean bucks
She's got a maid and her butler wears a tux
And look, look at the car that she's drivin'
Before we leave here tonight, watch me get live, and
Swing it, rope it up and string it
Open up and sting it... (yeah right, K)
O-oh, what's up, you think I'm jokin'?
Just because I'm broke and I came here by a token?
Yeah aight, sleep and keep snoozin'
Give me a week, in her Benz you'll see me cruisin'
I'll be like, "yeah, what up, yo?"
(Yo) "want a lift to the 3 train?" (yeah, man...) No
Call a cab to come and get'cha
'Cause I'm too damn fly to be seen wit'cha
I be chillin', livin' like the most guy
Lookin' fly, cause I know how to post high
Here we go, we're on the late night tip
Master Ace with a tight grip
Tight enough to hold the crowd, control the loud
People, they gather to hear a rather proud
Brother, originator of the third power
Action the posse grows just like a flower
Check it out, here's the scene
The nightclub, you know what I mean
The dancefloor - nuff heads
Gucci girls, a few tuff dreads
Homeboys dipped in silky
Leather seats in the Benzes often milky
Cuban link, a lotta Moet to drink
Cash spent as fast as you blink
And all you hear is (go, go, go)
None of these folks are livin' low
They're livin' on the (high)
(High)
You're postin' high
[Verse 2]
Yo, look at slim (word) she's soft as satin
Livin' on the upper west side of Manhattan
She's paid, I mean bucks
She's got a maid and her butler wears a tux
And look, look at the car that she's drivin'
Before we leave here tonight, watch me get live, and
Swing it, rope it up and string it
Open up and sting it... (yeah right, K)
O-oh, what's up, you think I'm jokin'?
Just because I'm broke and I came here by a token?
Yeah aight, sleep and keep snoozin'
Give me a week, in her Benz you'll see me cruisin'
I'll be like, "yeah, what up, yo?"
(Yo) "want a lift to the 3 train?" (yeah, man...) No
Call a cab to come and get'cha
'Cause I'm too damn fly to be seen wit'cha
I be chillin', livin' like the most guy
Lookin' fly, cause I know how to post high
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