Get Em High by Kanye West Lyrics Meaning – Navigating The Depths of Fame and Authenticity
Lyrics
I’m trying to catch the beat
I’m trying to catch the beat, uh, uh, uh
I’m trying to catch the beat
Now, thr-thr-throw your motherfucking hands (get ’em high)
All the girls pass the weed to your motherfucking man (get ’em high)
Now I ain’t never tell you to put down your hands (keep ’em high)
And if ya losing 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 alcoholics
My freshman year I was going through hell, a problems
Still 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 feel me, I’m gonna follow
My heart, and if you follow the charts, or 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 asking 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’
Now, thr-thr-throw your motherfucking hands (Get ’em high!)
All the girls pass the weed to your motherfucking man (Get ’em high!)
Now I ain’t never tell you to put down your hands (Keep ’em high!)
And if ya losing yo’ high than smoke again (Keep ’em high!)
Now now now now now who the hell is this
E-mailing me at 11:26, tellin’ me that she 36-26,
Plus double D you know how girls on black planet be when they get bubble E
At NYU but she hail from Kansas,
Right now she just lamping, chilling on campus
Sent me a picture with a feeling on Candice
Who said her favorite rapper was the late great Francis
W-H-I-T, it’s getting 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 lying)
Yo Kwe’, she don’t believe me, please pickup the line
She goin’ think that I’m lying, just spit a couple of lines
Then maybe I’ll be able to give her dick all the time, and get her high
Yeah, I can’t believe this nigga use my name for picking up dimes but
Get ’em high, I need some tracks you trying to pull tracks out
And my rhymes as fitting to blow you trying to blow backs out
Well OK, you twisted my arm, I’ll assist with the charm, hey yo
Ain’t you meet that chick that got friends with yo moms
And she’s the bomb, boy she got the bougie behavior
Always got something to say like a okay playa hater
Anyways, I don’t usually fuck with the internet
Or chicks with birth control stuck to they arm like Nicorette
You really fucking that much, you trying 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 kush and 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
With real nigga quotes
Real rappers is hard to find, like a remote, control rap is out of
Used to but still got love, 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’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, mug 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 producers is popular
Twelve thousand spins, nobody got to copping her
Album, how come, you the hot garbager
The years clear your image and looped up
Label got you suped up, telling 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 your head I’m bread king like Simba
Bolder then Denver, I ain’t a Madd Rapper just a emcee with a temper
You dancing for money like honey, I did this my way
So when the industry crash, I survive like Kanye
Spitting through wires and fires, emcees retiring
Got yo hands up, get them motherfuckers higher then
Now, thr-thr-throw your motherfucking hands (get ’em high)
All the girls pass the weed to your motherfucking man (get ’em high)
Now I ain’t never tell you to put down your hands (keep ’em high)
And if ya losing yo’ high than smoke again (keep ’em high)
As Kanye West’s ‘Get Em High’ thumps through the speakers, listeners are propelled into a world of swaggering beats and candid charisma. Yet, delve deeper into the layers of this track and you’ll find a complex exploration of fame, personal authenticity, and the industry’s surreal landscape.
More than just a hedonistic anthem, ‘Get Em High’ is a pivotal moment in Kanye West’s early discography. Here, West collaborates with hip-hop heavyweights Talib Kweli and Common to forge a narrative that’s insightful and reflective, at times caustic, yet wrapped in the allure of a party track.
The Beat of Authenticity versus Industry Pretense
The hook, thrumming with the command to ‘get ‘em high,’ is a double entendre. It’s a communal call to let loose but also a challenge. West dares listeners to attain a higher state of consciousness, to catch the ‘beat’ of his truth as an artist. Throughout the song, the lyrics juxtapose West’s genuine artistry against the industry’s manufactured image.
This track’s boastful lyrics ‘I got the bounce like hydraulics, I can’t call it, I got the swerve like alcoholics’ aren’t just braggadocio; they point out the ease with which West navigates the landscape of hip-hop while others may be swaying under its pressures. His flow is both a literal and metaphorical vehicle driving through the faux glitz of the music industry.
The Vulnerability Behind the Confidence
‘My freshman year I was going through hell, a problems,’ delves into West’s personal struggles during his rise. There’s an intimacy to his admission that humanizes him, reminding us that behind the ‘motherfucking hands’ raised in the air, there’s a story of perseverance.
Kanye’s vulnerability juxtaposed with confident declarations, ‘And if you follow the charts, or to the plaques or the stacks, you ain’t gotta guess who’s back,’ exemplifies his battle between maintaining his artistic integrity and succumbing to the validation offered by chart success and financial gain.
A Haunting Reflection on Hip-Hop’s Soul
‘Get Em High’ is not merely about intoxication; it’s an elegy draped in party attire. West, Kweli, and Common are on a quest to reinvigorate a genre they believe is losing its essence. ‘Real rappers are hard to find, like a remote,’ this line isn’t an attack but a wake-up call.
When West says ‘Hip-Hop is dead, I’m here to resurrect me,’ it’s not just a nonchalant jab—it’s prophetic. He’s predicting his role as a salvager of soul within a genre at risk of becoming superficial. Each verse functions as a reminder of hip-hop’s roots and its capacity to be real, raw, and reflective.
Relationships and Rap: Exposing Digital Love
In a pre-social media age, ‘Get Em High’ foreshadows the complexities of online relationships. The verse ‘E-mailing me at 11:26, telling me that she 36-26, Plus double D’ illustrates how the internet began changing the dynamics of attraction and interaction.
West’s depiction of a woman who exaggerates her connections to attract attention isn’t just about romantic endeavors; it’s an allegory for how artists and industry professionals embellish their status. It’s a satirical look at clout—years before ‘clout-chasing’ became a colloquialism.
Decoding the Hidden Meaning: A Quest for Cultural Elevation
‘Get Em High’ is more than it seems. It captures the turbulence of early fame and an artist’s refusal to dilute his message. There’s a sense of camaraderie, as West, Kweli, and Common unite not for hollow braggadocio but for a call to cultural elevation.
Beneath the raucous energy and memorable punchlines lurks a manifesto for authenticity. It encourages a look beyond the superficial highs of the industry and society. It is a relentless quest for something greater—a validation beyond the charts, a true high derived from staying genuine in a capricious world.
