Kanye West - Get Em High (Stackhouse Recordings mix) lyrics

[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 motherf**in hands GET EM HIGH All the girls pa** the weed to ya motherf**in 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 Wallace, 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 a** up outta collllllll-ege My teacher said I'se a loser, I told her why don't you k** me I give a f** 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 ba*tard's flow will bash a skull And I will, cut your girl like Pastor Tro And I don't, usually smoke but pa** the 'dro And I won't, give you that money that you askin fo' Why you think, me and Dame cool, we ask hoes That's why we hear your music in fast fo' Cuz we don't wanna here that weak sh** no mo' [Chorus: Kanye West] N-now, th-th-through ya motherf**in hands GET EM HIGH All the girls pa** the weed to ya motherf**in 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 headed from Kansas, right now she just lampin, chillin on Campus Sent me a picture with a 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 n***a 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 a**ist with the charm, aiyyo I though you meet that chick at that conference with yo moms And she's the bomb, boy she got the bouji behavior Always got somethin' to say like a bookee(?) playa hater Anyway, I don't usually f** with a interneter (get her high) Birth control stuck to they arm like Nicorette You really f**in' that much, you tryin' to get off cigarettes And she think it's fly, she ain't met a real n***a yet I apologize if I come off a little inconsiderate I got the bubba kush and a sister could get a hit of it [Verse 4: Common] Get em high like noon, or the moon or a room filled with smoke A high filled with dope Y'all a**umed I was doomed, out of tune, but I still fill the notes With real n***a quotes Real rappers is hard to find, like a remonte, control rap is not a Used soup it still got life, that's why I abuse you who are not thugs Rock clubs like Tiger, Woods in the hood, should have my own reality show Called Soul Survivor, I stole on liver, n***as than you You'se a b**h 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 s**y 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 popular Twelve thousand spins, nobody got to coppin your Album, how come, you the hot garbage of The years clear your image is looped 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, illiterate n***a 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 dancin' 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 motherf**ers higher then [Chorus: Kanye West] N-now, th-th-through ya motherf**in hands GET EM HIGH All the girls pa** the weed to ya motherf**in 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