Song | Devil In A New Dress |
Artist | Kanye West |
Album | Devil In A New Dress |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
I love it though | |
I love it though | |
You know | |
Put your hands to the constellations | |
They way you look should be a sin, you my sensation | |
I know I'm preachin' to the congregation | |
We love Jesus but she done learned a lot from Satan | |
I mean a nigga did a lot of waitin' | |
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 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 gon' wake up and not love me no more | |
I thought I was the ass hole, I guess it's rubbin' off | |
Hood phenomenon, the Lebron of rhyme | |
Hard to be humble when you stuntin' on a Jumbotron | |
I'm lookin' at her like, "This what you really want it, huh?" | |
What we argue anyway, oh, I forgot it's summertime | |
Put your hands to the constellations | |
They way you look should be a sin, you my sensation | |
I know I'm preachin' 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 waitin' | |
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 are still up the skies | |
You got green on your mind, I can see it in your eyes | |
Why you standin' there with your face screwed up? | |
Don't leave while you're hot, that's how Mase screwed up | |
Throwin' 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 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 evenin' | |
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' Rosé 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 | |
Hater talkin' never made me mad | |
Never that when I'm in my favorite paper tag | |
Therefore G4s 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, they'll export | |
So many cars DMV 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 | |
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 |
I love it though | |
I love it though | |
You know | |
Put your hands to the constellations | |
They way you look should be a sin, you my sensation | |
I know I' m preachin' to the congregation | |
We love Jesus but she done learned a lot from Satan | |
I mean a nigga did a lot of waitin' | |
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 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 gon' wake up and not love me no more | |
I thought I was the ass hole, I guess it' s rubbin' off | |
Hood phenomenon, the Lebron of rhyme | |
Hard to be humble when you stuntin' on a Jumbotron | |
I' m lookin' at her like, " This what you really want it, huh?" | |
What we argue anyway, oh, I forgot it' s summertime | |
Put your hands to the constellations | |
They way you look should be a sin, you my sensation | |
I know I' m preachin' 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 waitin' | |
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 are still up the skies | |
You got green on your mind, I can see it in your eyes | |
Why you standin' there with your face screwed up? | |
Don' t leave while you' re hot, that' s how Mase screwed up | |
Throwin' 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 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 evenin' | |
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' Ros all along | |
Doubleheaded 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 | |
Hater talkin' never made me mad | |
Never that when I' m in my favorite paper tag | |
Therefore G4s 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, they' ll export | |
So many cars DMV 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 | |
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 |
I love it though | |
I love it though | |
You know | |
Put your hands to the constellations | |
They way you look should be a sin, you my sensation | |
I know I' m preachin' to the congregation | |
We love Jesus but she done learned a lot from Satan | |
I mean a nigga did a lot of waitin' | |
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 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 gon' wake up and not love me no more | |
I thought I was the ass hole, I guess it' s rubbin' off | |
Hood phenomenon, the Lebron of rhyme | |
Hard to be humble when you stuntin' on a Jumbotron | |
I' m lookin' at her like, " This what you really want it, huh?" | |
What we argue anyway, oh, I forgot it' s summertime | |
Put your hands to the constellations | |
They way you look should be a sin, you my sensation | |
I know I' m preachin' 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 waitin' | |
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 are still up the skies | |
You got green on your mind, I can see it in your eyes | |
Why you standin' there with your face screwed up? | |
Don' t leave while you' re hot, that' s how Mase screwed up | |
Throwin' 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 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 evenin' | |
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' Ros all along | |
Doubleheaded 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 | |
Hater talkin' never made me mad | |
Never that when I' m in my favorite paper tag | |
Therefore G4s 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, they' ll export | |
So many cars DMV 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 | |
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 |