Karaoké Devil in a New Dress Kanye West & Rick Ross

Uh

Uh

I love it though

I love it though huh you know

Uh

Put your hands to the constellations

The way you look should be a sin

You my sensation huh

I know I'm preachin' to the congregation

We love Jesus but you done learned a lot from Satan ha ha

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 brash decisions

Oh she do it

What happened to religion

Oh she lose it

She puttin' on her make-up

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 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 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 preachin' to the congregation

We love Jesus but you done learned a lot from Satan huh

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'll fill 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 the jerk

She said You are what you eat huh

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

Ha ha

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 alone

Double-headed monster with a mind of his own

Cherry-red chariot

Excess is just my character

All-black tux

Nigga's 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, not when I'm in my favorite paper tag

Therefore, G-Fours 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 gettin' mail from

Polk County, Jacksonville

Right in Melbourne

Whole clique appetites had tapeworms

Spinnin' 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

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

Huh

Huh