Devil In a New Dress
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I love it though I love it though, y'know? Uh put your hands to the constellations They 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 God's be with us And that magic hour I seen good Christians Make brash 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 up, the casualty of tour How she gone 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 stuntin' on a jumbotron I'm looking at her like, "This what you really wantedt, huh?" What we argue anyway, oh I forgot its summertime Put your hands to the constellations They 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 (Satan, Satan, 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 its the magic hour The magic hour And outta all the colors that are still 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 your hot that's how Mase screwed up Throwing shit around, the whole place screwed up Maybe I should call Mase so that he could pray for us I hit the Jamaican spot, at the bar, take a seat I ordered the jerk, she said, "You are what you eat" You see I always loved your sense of humor But tonight you should have seen how quiet the room was The Lyor Cohen or Dior Homme that's Dior Homme not Dior homie The crib Scarface couldn't be more Tony You love me for me could you be more phony Put your hands to the constellations They way you look should be a sin, you my sensation Haven't said a word, haven't said a word to me this evening Cat got your tongue? 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, sippin' Rose all along 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 climbin' up the Lord's ladder We still speedin' runnin' signs like they don't matter Uh, hater talkin' 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 D.M.V. though it was mail fraud Different traps, I was gettin' mail from Polk County, Jacksonville, rep Melbourne Whole clique's appetite had tapeworms Spinnin' Teddy Pendergrass vinyl as my jay burns I shed a tear before the nights over God bless the man I put this ice over, uh Gettin' 2Pac money twice over Still a real nigga, red Coogi sweater, dice roller I'm makin' love to the angel of death Catchin' feelings never stumble retracin' my steps
Written by: William Roberts, Carole King, Gerry Goffin, Kanye West, Roosevelt Harrell, Malik Yusef Jones, Mike Dean
Lyrics © WARNER CHAPPELL MUSIC INC, Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
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