Kanye West Lyrics

Album: College Dropout

Get Em High Lyrics

(feat. Talib Kweli, Common)

 [Kanye West]

 I'm tryin to catch the beat, uh

 I'm tryin to catch the beat

 I'm tryin to catch the beat, uh uh, uh

 I'm tryin to catch the beat

 

 [Chorus: Kanye West]

 N-now, th-th-through ya motherfuckin hands

 GET EM HIGH

 All the girls pass the weed to ya motherfuckin man

 GET EM HIGH

 Now I ain't never tell you to put down ya hands

 KEEP EM HIGH

 And if ya losin yo high than smoke again

 KEEP EM HIGH

 

 [Verse 1: Kanye West]

 N-n-n-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 alchoooool-ics

 My freshman year I was goin through hell, a problem

 Still I, built up the nerve to drop my ass up outta collllllll-ege

 My teacher said I'se a loser, I told her why don't you kill me

 I give a fuck if you fail me, I'm gonna folllllllllll-ow

 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 shy 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 askin fo'

 Why you think, me and Dame cool, we assholes

 That's why we here your music in fast fo'

 Cuz we don't wanna here that weak shit no mo'

 

 [Chorus: Kanye West]

 N-now, th-th-through ya motherfuckin hands

 GET EM HIGH

 All the girls pass the weed to ya motherfuckin man

 GET EM HIGH

 Now I ain't never tell you to put down ya hands

 KEEP EM HIGH

 And if ya losin yo high than smoke again

 KEEP EM HIGH

 

 [Verse 2: Kanye West]

 N-n-n-n-n-now who the hell is this

 E-mailin me at 11:26, tellin me that she 36-26, plus double-d

 You know how girls on black planet be when they get bubblee

 At NYU but she hail from Kansas, right now she just lampin, chillin on

 campus

 Sent me a picture with her feelin on Candice

 Who said her favorite rapper was the late great Francis

 W-H-I-T, it's gettin 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 lyin)

 Yo Kwe, she don't believe me, please pickup the line

 She gon' think that I'm lyin, 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 pickin up dimes but

 GET EM HIGH, I need some tracks you tryin to pull tracks out

 And my rhymes as fittin to blow you tryin to blow back south

 Well ok, you twisted my arm, I'll asist with the charm, aiyyo

 Ain't you meet that chick at the conference wit ya mom?

 And she's the bomb, boy she got the boujI behavior

 Always got somethin to say like an okay playa hater

 Anyway, I don't usualy fuck with the internet

 Birth Controls stuck to they arm like Nicorette

 You really fuckin that much, you tryin to get off cigarettes

 And she think it's fly, she ain't met a real nigga yet

 I appoligize 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

 Y'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, niggaz in you

 You'se 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, tellin you you 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 bread king like Simba

 Bolder then Denver, I ain't a Madd Rapper just a emcee with a temper

 You dansin for money like honey, I did this my way

 So when the industry crash, I survive like Kanye

 Spittin through wires and fires, emcees retirin

 Got yo hands up, get them motherfuckers higher then

 

 [Chorus: Kanye West]

 N-now, th-th-through ya motherfuckin hands

 GET EM HIGH

 All the girls pass the weed to ya motherfuckin man

 GET EM HIGH

 Now I ain't never tell you to put down ya hands

 KEEP EM HIGH

 And if ya losin yo high than smoke again

 KEEP EM HIGH