Devil In A New Dress

Album: My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy (2010)
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  • I love it though
    I love it though

    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 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 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 you 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 phoney

    Uh 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 paper tag
    Therefore G.4'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 Writer/s: William Roberts, Carole King, Gerry Goffin, Kanye West, Roosevelt Harrell, Malik Yusef Jones, Mike Dean
    Publisher: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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