Chorus: Now throw your motherfuckin hands Get em high All the girls pass the weed to your motherfuckin man Get em high Now I ain't never tell you to put down your hands Keep em high And if you losin your high then smoke again Keep em high
Verse 1:[Kanye West] My flow is in the pocket like wallets I got the bounce like hydraulics I can't call it I got the swerve like alcoholics My freshman yeah I was going through hell of problems Till I built up the never to drop my a★★ up out of college My teacher said I'm a loser I told why don't you kill me Don't give a f★★k if you feel me I'm gonna follow My heart and it you follow the chart or the plaques or the stacks You ain't gotta quess who's back You see I'm so Chi that you thought I was bashful But this bastards flow will bash ya 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 asking for Why you think me and Dame is cook we a★★holes And that's why I hear your music in fast forward Cause we don't wanna hear that weak sh★t no more
Chorus
Verse 2:[Kanye West] Now who the hell is this e-mailing me at 11:26 Tellin me that she's 36-26 Plus double D you know how girls on back planet be when they get bubbly 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 last great Francis W-H-I-T its gettin late mommy your screen saver say tweet so you got to call me And bring a freiend for my friend his name Kweli "You mean Talib lyricks stick to your rib I mean that's my favorite CD that I play in my crib. I mean you don't really know him why is you lying?" You Kwe she don't believe me please pick up the line She gonna think that I'm lying 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] Yo 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 is fittin to blow, you tryin to blow backs out Ok well you twistin my arm I'll assist with the charm Ayo don't you meet that chick who got friends with your moms She the bomb but she got the busche behavior Always got somethin to say like an OkayPlayer Hater Anyway I don't usually fuck with the internet Got brith control stuck to they arm like niccorete You really fuckin that much? or tryin to get off cigarettes? And she think its fly she ain't met a real nigga yet I apologize if I come off a little inconsiderate I got the bubble cushion a sister could get a hit of it
Verse 4:[Common] Get em high like noon or the moon or a room Filled with smoke or a hype filled with dope Y'all assumed I was doomed out a tomb But I still feel the notes from "real nigga quotes" Real rappers is hard to find like a remote Control rappers out of You souped but still got love That's why I abuse you who are not thugs Rock' clubs like Tiger Woods in the hood Should have my own reality show Called soul survivor I stole on Live'r biggas than you You is 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 Broads is too sexy to even make songs like these That's why the world don't know your name like Alicia Keys Too many featured emcees and producers is popular 1200's spains nobody got to coppin a Album how come you the hot garbage uh? Yea its clear your image is looped up Label got you souped up Tellin you you're sick When you're a dick with a loose rut Video hard to watch like Medusa Even your club record need a booster Chinup with a pimp cup illiterate nigga Read the infra-red across ya head I'm bred king like Simba Bolder than Denver I ain't mad rapper just an MC with a temper You dancin for money like honey I end this my way So when the industry crash I survive like Kanye Spittin through wires and fires emcee's retiring Got your hands up Get them motherfuckes higher then
