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-throw 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 wallets, I got the bounce like hydraulics
I can't call it, I got the swerve like alchoooool-ics
My freshman year I was goin through hella problems
Till 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 feel me, I'm gonna folllllllllll-ow
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 it was bashful 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 hear your music and hit fast fo'
Cuz we don't wanna hear that weak shit no mo'

[Chorus: Kanye West]
N-now, th-th-throw 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 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

[Verse 3: Talib Kweli]
Yeah
I can't believe this nigga use my name for pickin up dimes but
but never mind, I need some tracks you tryin to pull tracks out
And my rhymes is finna blow you tryin to blow backs out
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?
Her sister the bomb, boy she got the bouji behavior
Always got somethin to say like an okay playa hater
Anyway, I don't usually 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 apoligize if I come off a little inconsiderate
I got the bubble kush and a sister could get a hit 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 remote, 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 too 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 is 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, illiterate nigga
Read the infa, red across your head I'm Brett King like Simba
Boulder to Denver, I ain't a Madd Rapper just a MC 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, MC's retirin
Got yo hands up, get them motherfuckers higher than

[Chorus: Kanye West]
N-now, th-th-throw 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