Тональность: F# minor
Verse 1
Am
Uh- uh, I'm tryna catch the beat
Uh, I'm tryna catch the beat
I'm tryna catch the beat,
C
Am
uh- uh, uh- uh
I'm tryna catch the beat
G
Am
N- now, th- th- throw
Verse 2
yo' motherfuckin' hands
Get 'em high
All the girls pass the weed to
yo' motherfuckin' man
C
Am
G
Get 'em high
Am
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
G
Now, now, now, now, my
Verse 3
Am
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
G
my ass up outta college
Am
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
C
Am
to the plaques or the stacks"
G
You ain't gotta guess who's back,
you see?
Am
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
C
Am
And I don't usually smoke
Am
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
Am
'Cause we don't wanna here
that weak shit no mo'
Verse 4
Am
N- now, th- th- throw
yo' motherfuckin' hands
Get 'em high
All the girls pass the weed to
yo' motherfuckin' man
C
Am
G
Get 'em high
Am
G
Am
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
G
Now, now, now, now, now,
Verse 5
Who the hell is this?
A
Am
E- mailin' me at 11:26, tellin' me
That she 36- 26, plus double- d
C
Am
You know how girls on Black Planet be
G
Am
When they get bubblee
G
Am
At NYU but she hailed from Kansas
G
Am
Right now she just lampin',
chillin' on campus
Sent me a picture with
C
her feelin' on Candice
Am
A
Who said her favorite rapper
G
was the late great Francis
it's gettin' late, mami
Your screen saver say tweet
so you got to call me
And bring a friend for my friend
C
Am
his name Kweli
G
Am
A
G
You mean Talib, lyric sticks to your rib?
A
Am
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
E
me, please pickup the line
C
Am
She gon' think that I'm lyin',
G
just spit a couple of lines
Am
Then maybe I'll be able to give her dick
all the time and get her high
Yeah (ow!)
Verse 6
Am
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
C
Am
Well okay you twisted my arm, I'll
G
Am
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
C
a okay- player hater
Am
Anyway, I don't usually fuck
E
G
with the interneter
Am
Chicks with birth control stuck
to they arm like Nicolette
A
You really fuckin' that much,
Am
you tryin' to get off ci garettes
If she think it's fly,
A
Am
she ain't met a real nigga yet (no)
I apologize if I come off a little
inconsiderate
I got the bubble cushion,
G
a sister could get a hit of (yeah, yeah)
Am
Get 'em high like noon
Verse 7
or the moon
Or room filled with smoke,
a high filled with dope
Y'all assumed I was doomed out of tune
C
Am
But I still feel the notes the real
G
Am
nigga quotes
Real rappers is hard to find like a remote control,
rap is not a
Used soup it still got life,
C
Am
that's why I ab use you who are not thugs
Verse 8
Am
G
Am
like Tiger Woods
In the hood to have my own reality show
Called Soul Survivor, I stole all liver,
G
I got ones that are thicker than you
Am
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
C
Am
That's why the raw don't know your name,
Am
Too many featured
Verse 9
MCs and
producers is popular
12 thousand spins,
nobody got to coppin' her
Album, how come,
C
Am
you the hot garbager
The years clear your im
Am
Label got you souped up,
tellin' you, you sick
Man you a dick with a loose nut
Am
Video hard to watch
Verse 10
like Medusa
Am
C
Am
Even your club record need
G
a booster
Am
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
Am
Just a MC with a temper
G
Am
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,
C
Am
MCs retirin'
Got yo' hands up,
G
get them motherfuckers higher, then
Am
N- now, th- th- throw yo' motherfuckin'
Verse 11
Am
hands
Get 'em high (yeah)
All the girls pass the weed
to yo' motherfuckin' man
C
Am
Get 'em high
G
(uh- uh, uh- uh, uh- uh)
Am
G
Am
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
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