Kanye West / My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy - 08 Devil In A New Dress (feat. Rick Ross) (vkontakte.ru/bestmusiclub) | Текст песни

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• Kanye West / My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy
• 08 Devil In A New Dress (feat. Rick Ross) (vkontakte.ru/bestmusiclub)

I love it, though
I love it, though, you know?

Put your hands to the constellations
The way you look should be a sin, you my sensation
I know I’m preachin’ to the congregation
We love Jesus, but you 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 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 puttin’ on her makeup, she casually allure
Text message breakups, 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 rubbin’ off
Hood phenomenon, the LeBron of rhyme
Hard to be humble when you’re stuntin’ on a Jumbotron
I’m lookin’ at her like, this what you really wanted, huh?
Why we arguin’ 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 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
(It’s the magic hour)
And out of all the colors that fill 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 you’re hot, that’s how Mase screwed up
Throwin’ shit around, our whole place screwed up
Maybe I should call Mase and he could pray for us
I hit the Jamaican spot, at the bar, took a seat
I ordered the jerk, she said, “You are what you eat”
You see, I always loved the sense of humor
But tonight, you shoulda seen how quiet the room was
The Lyor Cohen of Dior Homme
That’s Dior Homme, not Dior, homie
The crib’s Scarface, could it be more tony?
You love me for me, could you me 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 evenin’
Cat got your tongue?

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