Kanye West - Get Em High Lyrics

[Kanye West]
I'm trying to catch the beat, uh
I'm trying to catch the beat
I'm trying to catch the beat, uh uh, uh
I'm trying to catch the beat

[Chorus (Kanye West):]
Now, throw your motherf*cking hands
GET 'EM HIGH
All the girls pass the weed to your motherf*cking man
GET 'EM HIGH
Now I ain't never tell you to put down your hands
KEEP 'EM HIGH
And if your losing your high than smoke again
KEEP 'EM HIGH

[Verse 1: Kanye West]
Now, my flow
Is in the pocket like wallets, I got the bounce like hydrolics
I can't call it, I got the swerve like alcoholics
My freshman year I was going through hell, a problem
Still I, built up the nerve to drop my ass up outta college
My teacher said I'm a loser, I told her why don't you kill me
I give a f*ck if you fail me, I'm gonna follow
My heart, and if you follow the charts, to the plaques or the stacks
You ain't gotta guess who's back, you see
I'm so Chi that you thought it was bashfull but this bastard's flow will bash a skull
And I will, cut your girl like Pastor Troy
And I don't usually smoke but pass the 'dro
And I won't give you that money that you asking for
Why you think, me and Dame cool, we're assholes
That's why we're here, your music in fast for
'cause we don't wanna here that weak shit no more

[Chorus (Kanye West)]

[Verse 2: Kanye West]
Now who the hell is this?
E-mailing me at 11:26, telling me that she 36-26, plus doubled
You know how girls on black planet be when they get bubble
At NYU but she hail from Kansas, right now she just lampin, chilling on campus
Sent me a picture with her feeling on Candice
Who said her favorite rapper was the late great Francis
W-H-I-T, it's getting late mami, your screen saver say tweet
So you got to call me, and bring a friend for my friend
His name Kweli
(You mean Talib, lyric sticks to your rib)
I mean
(That's my favorite CD that I play at my crib)
I mean
(You don't really know him, why is you lying)
you Kwe, she don't believe me, please pickup the line
She's gonna think that I'm lying, just spit a couple of lines
Then maybe I'll be able to give her dick all the time, and get her high

[Verse 3: Talib Kweli]
Yeah, I can't believe this nigga use my name for picking up dimes but
GET 'EM HIGH, I need some tracks you trying to pull tracks out
And my rhymes as fitting to blow you trying to blow back south
Well OK, you twisted my arm, I'll assist with the charm, aiyyo
Ain't you meet that chick at the conference with your mom?
And she's the bomb, boy she got the bouj behavior
Always got somethin to say like an OK player hater
Anyway, I don't usually f*ck with the internet
Birth Controls stuck to they arm like Nicorette
You really f*cking that much, you trying to get off cigarettes
And she think it's fly, she ain't met a real nigga yet
I apologize if I come off a little inconsiderate
I got the bubble cushion a sister could get ahead of it

[Verse 4: Common]
Get 'em high like noon, or the moon or room filled with smoke
A high filled with dope
You all assumed I was doomed, out of tune, but I still feel the notes
The real nigga quotes
Real rappers is hard to find, like a remonte, control rap is not a
Used too but still got love, that's why I abuse you who are not thugs
Rock clubs, it's like Tiger, Woods in the hood, to have my own reality show
Called Soul Survivor, I stole all liver, niggas in you
You're a bitch I got ones that are thicker than you
How could I ever let your words affect me, they say Hip-Hop is dead
I'm here to resurrect me, mosh is to sexy to even make songs like these
That's why the raw don't know your name, like Alicia Keys
To many featured emcees, and pro-ducers is populer
Twelve thousand spins, nobody got to coppin her
Album, how come, you the hot garbager
The years clear your image and snooped up
Label got you souped up, telling you you're sick
Man you a dick with a loose nut
Video hard to watch like Medusa
Even your club record need a booster
Chimped up, with a pimp cup, illeaterate nigga
Read the infa, red across your head I'm Brett King like Simba
Boulder then Denver, I ain't a Madd Rapper just a emcee with a temper
You dancing for money like honey, I did this my way
So when the industry crash, I survive like Kanye
Spitting through wires and fires, emcees retiring
Got your hands up, get them motherf*ckers higher then

[Chorus (Kanye West)]