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    PLAY

    [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

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