Lyrical Breakdown of Get Em High - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Uh-uh, I'm tryna catch the beat

Uh, I'm tryna catch the beat

I'm tryna catch the beat, uh-uh, uh-uh

I'm tryna catch the beat

N-now, th-th-throw yo' motherfuckin' hands

Get 'em high

All the girls pass the weed to yo' motherfuckin' man

Get 'em high

Now, I ain't never tell you to put down your hands

Keep 'em high

And if ya losin' yo' high then smoke again

Keep 'em high

Now, now, now, now, my flow is in the pocket like Wallace

I got the bounce like hydraulics

I can't call it, I got the swerve like alcoholics

My freshman year I was goin' through hella problems

'Til I built up the nerve to drop my ass up outta college

My teacher said I's a loser, I told her, "Why don't you kill me?

I give a fuck if you fail me, I'm gonna follow

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 bashful

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 assholes

That's why we here your music in fast fo'

'Cause we don't wanna here that weak shit no mo'

N-now, th-th-throw yo' motherfuckin' hands

Get 'em high

All the girls pass the weed to yo' motherfuckin' man

Get 'em high

Now, I ain't never tell you to put down your hands

Keep 'em high

And if ya losin' yo' high then smoke again

Keep 'em high

Now, now, now, now, now, you've got mail

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 hailed 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 'on'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 (ow!)

I can't believe this nigga used my name for pickin' up dimes

But never mind I need some tracks you tryin' to pull tracks out

And my rhymes as fittin' to blow you, tryin' to blow backs out

Well okay you twisted my arm, I'll assist with the charm, ayo

Ain't you meet that chick at that conference wit' yo' moms?

And she's the bomb, boy, she got the bougie behavior

Always got somethin' to say like a okay-player hater

Anyway, I don't usually fuck with the interneter

Chicks with birth control stuck to they arm like Nicolette

You really fuckin' that much, you tryin' to get off cigarettes

If she think it's fly, she ain't met a real nigga yet (no)

I apologize if I come off a little inconsiderate

I got the bubble cushion, a sister could get a hit of (yeah, yeah)

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 soup it still got life, that's why I abuse you who are not thugs

Rock clubs like Tiger Woods

In the hood to have my own reality show

Called Soul Survivor, I stole all liver, niggas in you

You's a bitch, I got ones that are thicker than you

How could I ever let yo' 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 raw don't know your name, like Alicia Keys

Too many featured MCs and producers is popular

12 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, illiterate nigga

Read the infa, red across yo' head I'm bread king like Simba

Bolder than Denver I ain't a mad rapper

Just a MC with a temper

You dancin' for money like honey, I did this my way

So when the industry crash, I survived like Kanye

Spittin' through wires and fires, MCs retirin'

Got yo' hands up, get them motherfuckers higher, then

N-now, th-th-throw yo' motherfuckin' hands

Get 'em high (yeah)

All the girls pass the weed to yo' motherfuckin' man

Get 'em high (uh-uh, uh-uh, uh-uh)

Now, I ain't never tell you to put down your hands

Keep 'em high (keep 'em high, keep 'em high, uh-uh)

And if ya losin' yo' high then smoke again

Keep 'em high