E-mailin' me at 11:26, tellin' me
Songwriters: Talib Kweli, Lonnie Rashid Lynn, Kanye West
Video hard to watch like Medusa
I got the bubble cushion, a sister could get a hit of it
Anyway, I don't usually fuck with the interneter
All the girls pass the weed to ya motherfuckin' man
Now, I ain't never tell you to put down ya hands
I mean you don't really know him, why is you lyin'?
But this bastard's flow will bash a skull
Real rappers is hard to find like a remote control, rap is not a
And I won't give you that money that you askin' fo'
Get em high
All the girls pass the weed to ya motherfuckin' man
'Til I built up the nerve to drop my ass up outta college
You know how girls on Black Planet be
Yo Kwe, she don't believe me, please pickup the line
And if ya losin' yo high then smoke again
Your screen saver say tweet so you got to call me
I'm so shy that you thought it was bashful
Keep em high
And she's the bomb, boy, she got the bougey behavior
I got the bounce like hydraulics
I'm tryin' to catch the beat
Called Soul Survivor, I stole all liver, niggaz in you
Get em high
I apologize if I come off a little inconsiderate
Read the infa, red across your head I'm bread king like Simba
Now, throw ya motherfuckin' hands
Well okay you twisted my arm, I'll assist with the charm, aiyo
Used soup it still got life, that's why I abuse you who are not thugs
Now, my flow is in the pocket like Wallace
My freshman year I was goin' through hella problems
I can't believe this nigga use my name for pickin' up dimes
I give a fuck if you fail me, I'm gonna follow
Now, I ain't never tell you to put down ya hands
Get em high like noon or the moon
Keep em high
Why you think me and dame cool? We assholes
You ain't gotta guess who's back, you see?
Get em high
Now, I ain't never tell you to put down ya hands
Even your club record need a booster
I can't call it, I got the swerve like alcoholics
That's why the raw don't know your name, like Alicia Keys
But I still feel the notes the real nigga quotes
Just a emcee with a temper
Right now she just lampin', chillin' on campus
Always got somethin' to say like a okayplaya hater
Publishers: EMI BLACKWOOD MUSIC INC., PLEASE GIMME MY PUBLISHING, INC., SENSELESS MUSIC, SONGS OF UNIVERSAL INC
Keep em high
Now, throw ya motherfuckin' hands
You really fuckin' that much, you tryin' to get off cigarettes
Got yo hands up, get them motherfuckers higher then
Rock clubs like Tiger Woods
Sent me a picture with her feelin' on Candice
They say Hip-Hop is dead, I'm here to resurrect me
I'm tryin' to catch the beat
Who said her favorite rapper was the late great Francis
All the girls pass the weed to ya motherfuckin' man
In the hood to have my own reality show
Keep em high
Album, how come, you the hot garbager
And if ya losin' yo high then smoke again
'Cuz we don't wanna here that weak shit no mo'
When they get bubblee
At NYU but she hailed from Kansas
If she think it's fly, she ain't met a real nigga yet
Spittin' through wires and fires, emcees retirin'
You mean Talib, lyric sticks to your rib
Ain't you meet that chick at that conference with yo moms?
How could I ever let your words affect me?
Get em high
Get em high
Label got you souped up, tellin' you, you sick
And I don't usually smoke but pass the dro
Twelve thousand spins, nobody got to coppin' her
Chimped up, with a pimp cup, illiterate nigga
She gon' think that I'm lyin', just spit a couple of lines
Now who the hell is this?
The years clear your image and snooped up
I'm tryin' to catch the beat
Or room filled with smoke, a high filled with dope
And I will cut your girl like Pastor Tro
That she 36-26, plus double-d
I mean that's my favorite CD that I play at my crib
Keep em high
Get em high
You'se a bitch, I got ones that are thicker than you
And bring a friend for my friend his name Kweli
I'm tryin' to catch the beat
Now, throw ya motherfuckin' hands
And if ya losin' yo high then smoke again
Man you a dick with a loose nut
Y'all assumed I was doomed out of tune
That's why we here your music in fast fo'
Mosh is too sexy to even make songs like these
Keep em high
So when the industry crash, I survived like Kanye
And my rhymes as fittin' to blow you, tryin' to blow backs out
You dancin' for money like honey, I did this my way
To many featured emcees and producers is popular
But never mind I need some tracks you tryin' to pull tracks out
Then maybe I'll be able to give her dick all the time and get her high
My teacher said I'se a loser, I told her, "Why don't you kill me?
W-H-I-T, it's gettin' late mami
Chicks with birth control stuck to they arm like Nicolette
Bolder than Denver I ain't a mad rapper
My heart and if you follow the charts to the plaques or the stacks"