Get Em High
Common Lyrics


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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]
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

N-n-n-now, my flow
Is in the pocket like wallets, 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 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 here your music in fast fo'
'cause we don't want to here that weak shit no mo'

[Chorus]

[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 N-YU 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 assist with the charm, hey yo
I though you meet that chick it 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 usually 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 apologize if I come off a little inconsiderate
I got the bubble cushion a sister could get ahead of it

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 popular
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 dancin' 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]

Overall Meaning

The song begins with Common trying to catch the beat while someone in the room smokes weed, and he encourages everyone to get high. The chorus of the song talks about the beauty of being under the influence and requesting that the women pass the weed to their man. The song then delves into the verses discussing Kanye West's rise to fame, his perceptions of the music industry and its associated culture, and his unconventional approach to his music career.


During Kanye West's verse, he raps about how he is in the groove when it comes to his music and compares his flow to the pockets in wallets. He talks about how he had a difficult time in college and has found it hard to balance his passion for music with the pressure to succeed. He also represents his brash persona through the lyrics where he is cutting, has a quick wit, and tends to rub people the wrong way.


Talib Kweli takes over the third verse, where he discusses the tight-knit bonds he's created in the music industry. He talks about how hard it can be to find real talent and likens the control of rap to the tumultuous life of Tiger Woods. He ends his verse by asking the listeners to put their hands up and get high, which is the common theme throughout the song.


Overall, the song revolves around the concept of finding the perfect beat to smoke weed and gets high consuming music. It serves as a vivid representation of the rappers' values and struggles in the music industry.


Line by Line Meaning

I'm tryin' to catch the beat, uh
I'm trying to find the rhythm of the music.


N-now, th-th-through ya motherfuckin' hands Get em' high All the girls pass the weed to ya motherfuckin man Now I ain't never tell you to put down ya hands Keep em' high And if ya losin yo high than smoke again
Put your hands up and keep smoking weed to maintain your high.


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
Despite facing adversity and being called a loser by a teacher, I followed my heart and left college to pursue music. Now I'm successful and my achievements speak for themselves.


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 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 here your music in fast fo' 'cause we don't want to here that weak shit no mo'
I may appear shy, but my rap flow is aggressive and powerful. I don't smoke often, but I will if it's available. I won't give you money just because you ask for it. My friend and I don't tolerate weak music, which is why we listen to your songs at a faster speed.


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 N-YU 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) (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
A girl emailed me her measurements and sent a suggestive photo. She claims to be a fan of my music and knows my friend Talib Kweli. I ask him to talk to her to prove to her that I'm telling the truth and potentially hook up with her later.


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 assist with the charm, hey yo I though you meet that chick it 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
I'm surprised Kanye was using my name to pick up women, but I'm also looking for new tracks to work on. He's interested in my rhymes, and I agree to help him out. He suggests hooking up with a woman who knows my mom, and I agree to meet her. She's beautiful, but she acts boujee and talks too much like a playa hater.


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 popular 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 dancin' 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
People thought I was a bad rapper, but I still have talent and can make good music. Real rappers are hard to come by, and I'm not into the fake commercial rap scene. I want to have my own reality show and be successful on my own terms. I'm tired of hearing music from weak artists. My music speaks for itself, and I won't let anyone bring me down. I'm a true rapper who isn't just in it for the money. I've survived in the industry through hard work and determination, and I'm still going strong.




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