[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