Bu şarkının temalarını, hikâyesini ve hissini keşfedin.
Uh, uh | I love it though | I love it though, hah, you know? Uh
Uh, uh I love it though I love it though, hah, you know? Uh 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, ha-ha 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 makeup, 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 she 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 it's the magic hour, 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 wit' 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 the 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, 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 yo' ass to stone Stretch limousine, sipping Rosé all alone Double-headed monster wit' 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 (what?) Before his jaw shattered climbing up the Lord's ladder We still speeding, running signs like they don't matter Uh, hater talking never made me mad Never that not 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 appetite's 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
Henüz benzer parça yok.
