[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