Every second, every minute, man I swear that she can get itSay if you a bad bitch put your hands up high, hands up high, hands up highTell 'em dim the lights down right now, put me in the moodI'm talking 'bout dark room, perfumeGo, go!
I recognize your fragrance (hol' up!)You ain't never gotta say shit (woo!)And I know your taste isA little bit (mmm) high maintenance (ooh)Everybody else basicYou live life on an everyday basisWith poetic justice, poetic justiceIf I told you that a flower bloomed in a dark room, would you trust it?I mean I write poems in these songs dedicated to youWhen you're in the mood for empathy, there's blood in my penBetter yet where your friends and them?I really wanna know you allI really wanna show you offFuck that, pour up plenty of champagneCold nights when you curse this nameYou called up your girlfriends andY'all curled in that little bitty Range I heard thatShe wanna go and party, she wanna go and partyNigga don't approach her with that AtariNigga that ain't good game, homie, sorryThey say conversation, rule a nation, I can tellBut I could never right my wrongs'Less I write it down for real, P.S
You can get it, you can get itYou can get it, you can get itAnd I know just, know just, know just, know just, know just what you wantPoetic justice, put it in a song
I really hope you play this'Cause ol' girl you test my patienceWith all these seductive photographs and all these one off vacationsYou've been takenClearly a lot for me to take inIt don't make senseYoung East African Girl, you too busy fucking with your other manI was trying to put you on game, put you on a planeTake you and your mama to the motherlandI could do it, maybe one dayWhen you figure out you're gonna need someoneWhen you figure out it's all right here in the cityAnd you don't run from where we come fromThat sound like poetic justice, poetic justiceYou were so new to this life but God damn you got adjustedI mean I write poems in these songs, dedicated to the fun sexYour natural hair and your soft skin, and your big ass in that sundress (ooh!)Good God, what you doing that walk for?When I see that thing move, I just wish we would fight lessAnd we would talk moreAnd they say communication save relations, I can tellBut I can never right my wrongs unless I write them down for realP.S
Every time I write these words they become a tabooMaking sure my punctuation curve, every letter here's trueLiving my life in the margin and that metaphor was proofI'm talking poetic justice, poetic justiceIf I told you that a flower bloomed in a dark room, would you trust it?I mean you need to hear thisLove is not just a verb, it's you looking in the mirrorLove is not just a verb, it's you looking for a maybeCall me crazy, we can both be insaneA fatal attraction is commonAnd what we have common is painI mean you need to hear thisLove is not just a verb and I can see power steeringSex drive when you swerve, I want that interferenceIt's coherent, I can hear it, mmhmThat's your heartbeatIt either caught me or it called me, mmhmBreathe slow and you'll find gold mines in these linesSincerely, yours trulyAnd right before you go blindP.S
I'm gon' ask you one more time, homieWhere is you from? Or it is a problem (ask him if he here for Sherane)Ayy, you over here for Sherane, homie?I don't care who this nigga over here forIf he don't tell me where he from, it's a wrap! I'm sorryHol' up, hol' up, hol' up, we gon' do it like this, okay?I'ma tell you where I'm from, okay?You gon' tell me where you from, okay?Or where your grandma stay, where your mama stayOr where your daddy stay, okay? Fuck with all this talkin'As a matter of fact, get out the van, homie!Get out the car before I snatch you out that motherfucker, homie!
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