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Home » 2016 » April » 5 » Kanye West - Get Em High lyrics
17:29
Kanye West - Get Em High 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 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 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 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 Tro 
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 ask hoes 
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 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 nigga use my name for pickin up dolls 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 
I though you meet that chickit that got friends 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 usualy fuck a interneter 
Draws 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 soup it still got life, 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

Category: K | Views: 114 | Added by: Scar | Tags: Kanye West | Rating: 0.0/0
Total comments: 0
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