作词 : Kanye West/Bink!/Mike Dean/Rick Ross/Malik Yusef/Carole King/Gerry Goffin

作曲 : Kanye West/Bink!/Mike Dean/Rick Ross/Malik Yusef/Carole King/Gerry Goffin

编曲 : Bink!/Mike Dean

制作人 : Bink!/Mike Dean

Producer: Bink!

Additional Producer: Mike Dean

Writers: Mike Dean/Carol King/Malik Yusef/Rick Ross/Kanye West

Sample:Will You Love Me Tomorrow?(1973)—Smokey Robinson

Uh, uh

I love it though

I love it though, huh, 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 n-gga 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

In that magic hour, I seen good C****tians

Make brash decisions

Oh, she do it

What happened to religion?

Oh, she lose it

She putting on her makeup, 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 a*shole, I guess it’s rubbing off

Hood phenomenon, the LeBron of rhyme

Hard to be humble when you stunting on a jumbotron

I’m looking 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 she done learned a lot from Satan

Satan, Satan, Satan

I mean, a n-gga did a lot of waiting

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 standing there with your face screwed up?

Don’t leave while you're hot, that’s how Mase screwed up

Throwin' sh-t 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

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

Haven’t said a word, haven’t said a word to me this evening

Cat got your tongue?

Lookin' at my bxtch I bet she give your a*s a bone

Lookin' at my wrist, it'll turn your a*s to stone

Stretch limousine, sipping Rosé all alone

Double-headed monster with a mind of his own

Cherry-red chariot, excess is just my character

All-black tux, n-gga 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 speedin', running signs like they don't matter

Uh, hater talkin' never made me mad

Never that, not when I'm in my favorite papertag

Therefore, G4s at the Clearport

When it come to tools, fool, I'm a Pep Boy

When it came to dxpe, 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 appetite's had tapeworms

Spinnin' Teddy Pendergra*s vinyl as my J burns

I shed a tear before the night's over

God bless the man I put the ice over

Getting 2Pac money twice over

Still a real n-gga, red Coogi sweater, dice-roller

I'm makin' love to the angel of death

Catchin' feelings never stumble, retracin' my steps