Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Get Em High , by - Kanye West. Release date: 09.02.2004
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Get Em High |
| 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 |
| 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 |
| 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' |
| 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 |
| 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 |
| 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 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 |
| 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 |