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作词 : Kanye West/Lonnie Lynn/Talib Kweli Greene
作曲 : Kanye West/Lonnie Lynn/Talib Kweli Greene
Uh-uh I'm tryna catch the beat uh
I'm tryna to catch the beat
I'm tryna to catch the beat uh uh uh
I'm tryna to catch the beat
N-now th-th-throw your mother****in' hands
Get 'em high
All the girls pass the weed to yo' mother****in' man
Get 'em high
Now I ain't never tell you to put down your hands
Keep 'em high
And if you're losin' your high then smoke again
Keep 'em high
N-n-n-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 alcohol-ics
My freshman year I was going
Through hella problems
'Til I built up the nerve
To drop my a*s up out of college
My teacher said I'se a loser
I told her why don't you kill me
I give a **** if you fail me
I'm gonna fol-low 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 I was bashful
But this bastard's flow will bash your skull
And I will cut your girl like pastor tro'
And I don't usually smoke but pass the 'dro
And I won't give you that money that you askin' for
Why you think me and dame cool
We a*****es
That's why we hear your music in fast forward
'Cause we don't wanna hear that weak shit no mo'
N-now th-th-throw your mother****in' hands
Get 'em high
All the girls pass the weed to your mother****in' man
Get 'em high
Now I ain't never tell you to put down your hands
Keep 'em high
And if you're losin' yo' high then smoke again
Keep 'em high
N-n-n-n-n-now who the hell is this
E-mailing me at 1126
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' 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 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 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 pick up the line
She gon' think that I'm lyin'
Just spit a couple of lines
Then maybe I'll be able to give her d**k all the time
And get her high yeah owww
I can't believe this
nigga use my name for pickin' up dimes
But never-mind I need some tracks
You tryin' to pull tracks out
And my rhymes is finna blow
You trying to blow backs out
Well okay you twisted my arm
I'll assist with the charm
Ayo ain't you meet that chick
At that conference with your moms
And sister's the bomb
Boy she got the bougie behavior
Always got something to say like a okay playa hater
Anyways I don't usually **** with the internet
Or chicks with birth control
Stuck to they arm like Nicorette
You really ****in' that much
Or tryna get off cigarettes
If she think it's fly
She ain't met a real nigga yet
Now I apologize if I come off
A little inconsiderate
I got the bubba kush and a
Sister could get a hit of it yeah
Get 'em high like noon or the moon
Or a room filled with smoke
A hype-filled with dope
Y'all assumed I was doomed
Out of tune
But I still filled the notes with real nigga quotes
Real rappers is hard to find
Like a remote
Control rap is out of
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
Should have my own reality show
Called soul survivor
I stole on live-er nigga s than you
You's 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
Marsha's too sexy to even make songs like these
That's why the raw don't know your name
Like Alicia Keys
Too many featured emcees
And pro-ducers is popular
Twelve thousand spins
Nobody got to coppin' a
Album how come you the hot garbage of
The year it's clear your image is looped up
Label got you souped up
Tellin' you you sick
When you a d**k 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 infra
Red across your head
I'm bred king like Simba
Bolder than 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 your hands up
Get them mother****ers higher then
N-now th-th-throw your mother****in' hands
Get 'em high yeah
All the girls pass the weed to your mother****in' man
Get 'em high mm-mm uh-uh
Now I ain't never tell you to put down your hands
Keep 'em high keep 'em high
Keep 'em high uh-uh
And if you're losin' your high then smoke again
Keep 'em high
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