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 and hit 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 bubolee

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 hit 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 braud don't know your name, like Alicia Keys

To many featured emcees, and pro-ducers is populer

Twelve thousand spins, nobody got to coppin the

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 MC 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, MC 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