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I love it though
I love it though
Put your hands to the constellations
The way you look should be a sin,
You my sensation
I know I’m preaching to the congregation
We love Jesus but you done learned a lot from Satan
I mean a nigga did a lot of waiting
We ain't married but tonight I need some consummation
May the Lord forgive us, may the Gods be with us
In that magic hour I seen good Christians
Make rash decisions, oh she do it
What happened to religion? Oh, she lose it
She putting on her make up, she casually allure
Text message break ups, the casualty of tour
How she gon' wake up and not love me no more?
I thought I was the asshole, I guess it’s rubbing off
Hood phenomenon, the Lebron of rhyme
Hard to be humble when you stunting on a jumbotron
I’m looking at her like this what you really wanted, huh?
Why we argue anyway? Oh, I forgot, it's summertime
Put your hands to the constellations
The way you look should be a sin,
You my sensation
I know I’m preaching to the congregation
We love Jesus but you done learned a lot from Satan
I mean a nigga did a lot of waiting
We ain't married but tonight I need some consummation
When the sun go down it's the magic hour
And outta all the colors that'll fill up the skies
You got green on your mind,
I can see it in your eyes
Why you standing there with your face screwed up?
Don’t leave while you're hot that’s how Mase screwed up
Throwing shit around, the whole place screwed up
Maybe I should call Mase so he could pray for us
I hit the Jamaican spot, at the bar, take a seat
I ordered you jerk, she said you are what you eat
You see I always loved that sense of humor
But tonight you should have seen how quiet the room was
The Lyor Cohen of Dior Homme
That's Dior Homme, not Dior, homie
The crib Scarface
Could it be more Tony?
You love me for me?
Could you be more phony?
Put your hands to the constellations
The way you look should be a sin,
You my sensation
Haven’t said a word to me this evening
Cat got your tongue?
[Verse 3: Rick Ross]
Lookin' at my bitch I bet she give your ass a bone
Lookin' at my wrist it'll turn your ass to stone
Stretch limousine, sipping Rosé all alone
Double-headed monster with a mind of his own
Cherry red chariot, excess is just my character
All black tux, nigga shoes lavender
I never needed acceptance from all you outsiders
Had cyphers with Yeezy
Before his mouth wired
Before his jaw shattered
Сlimbing up the Lord's ladder
We still speeding running signs
Like they don't matter
Uh, hater talking never made me mad
Never that when I'm in my favorite papertag
Therefore G4's at the Clearport
When it come to tools fool I'm a Pep Boy
When it came to dope
I was quick to export
Never tired of ballin'
So it's on to the next sport
New Mercedes sedan, the Lex sport
So many cars
DMV thought it was mail fraud
Different traps, I was getting mail from
Polk County, Jacksonville, rep Melbourne
Whole clique's appetite had tapeworms
Spinning Teddy Pendergrass vinyl as my J burns
I shed a tear before the night's over
God bless the man
I put this ice over
Getting 2Pac money twice over
Still a real nigga, red Coogi sweater, dice roller
I'm making love to the angel of death
Catching feelings never stumble,
Retracing my steps
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