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Lyrics:
I love it though I love it though
Uh put your hands to the constellations The way you look should be a sin, you my 'sin-sation' 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 And 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 up, the casualty of tour How she gone wake up and not love me no more I thought I was the ass hole, 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 wanted, huh?' What we argue anyway, oh I forgot its summertime
Uh put your hands to the constellations The way you look should be a sin, you my 'sin-sation' 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 its the magic hour (The magic hour) And outta all the colours 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 you jerk, she said 'you are what you eat' You see I always loved your sense of humour But tonight you should have seen how quiet the room was
The Lyor Cohen or Dior Homme thats Dior Homme not Dior homie The crib scarface couldn't be more Tony You love me for me could you be more phoney
Uh put your hands to the constellations The way you look should be a sin, you my 'sin-sation' Haven't said a word, haven't said a word To me this evening Cat got your tongue?
Rick Ross: Lookin' at my bitch i bet she give yo ass a bone Lookin' at my wrist, itta turn yo ass to stone Stretch limousine, sippin ros? all alone Double headed monster with a mind of its 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 climbing up the lord's ladder We still speeding, running signs like they don't matter Hater talking never made me mad Never that not when i'm in my favorite paper tag
Therefore G4s at the Clearport When it come to tools fool Im a Pep Boy When it came to dope I was quick to export Never tired of ballin so its on to the next sport
New Mercedes sedan, theyll export So many cars DMV thought it was mail fraud Different traps, I was gettin mail from Polk County, Jacksonville, rep Melbourne
Whole clique appetites had tapeworms Spinnin Teddy Pendergrass vinyl as my jay burns I shed a tear before the night's over God bless the man I put this ice over
Gettin 2Pac money twice over Still a real nigga, red Coogi sweater, dice roller Im makin love to the angel of death Catchin feelings never stumble retracin my steps
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