Get Em High Lyric - Kanye West Ft Talib Kweli, Common


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    Get Em High Lyric - Kanye West Ft Talib Kweli, Common


    [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 motherfucking hands
    GET 'EM HIGH
    All the girls pass the weed to your motherfucking 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 then* smoke again
    KEEP 'EM HIGH

    [Verse 1: Kanye West]
    Now, my flow
    Is in the pocket like wallets, I got the bounce like hydraulics
    I can't call it, I got the swerve like alcoholics
    My freshman year I was going through hella problems
    'til 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 fuck if you fail me, I'm gonna follow my heart,
    And if you follow the charts, or the plaques or the stacks
    You ain't gotta guess who's back,
    You see I'm so Chi that you thought it was bashful
    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 hear your music in fast forward
    'Cause we don't wanna hear 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 double D
    You know how girls on black planet be when they get bubbly
    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, lyrics stick to your rib)
    I mean
    (That's my favorite CD that I play in my crib)
    I mean
    (You don't really know him, why is you lying)
    You Kwe, she don't believe me, please pick up 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 never mind, I need some tracks you trying to pull tracks out
    And my rhymes is finna blow you trying to blow backs out
    Well OK, you twisted my arm, I'll assist with the charm, aiyyo
    Ain't you meet that chick at that conference with your mom?
    She's the bomb, but she got the boujee behavior
    Always got something to say like an OK player hater
    Anyway, I don't usually fuck with the Internet
    Or chicks on Birth Control stuck to they arm like Nicorette
    You really fucking 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 kush and a sister could get a hit 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 remote control,
    Rap is not a used to 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's 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 too sexy to even make songs like these
    That's why the raw don't know your name, like Alicia Keys
    Too many featured MCs, and producers is popular
    Twelve thousand spins, nobody got to copping her
    Album, how come, you the hot garbage of
    The year, It's clear your image is 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, illiterate nigga
    Read the infa, red across your head Imma bred King like Simba
    Boulder then Denver, I ain't a Madd Rapper just a MC 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, MCs retiring
    Got your hands up, get them motherfuckers higher then

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