Justine's Interlude - A COLORS SHOW

Feels good to be home Yeah, yeah, uh If I got you and my son and my God on my side What's the point of anybody else ridin'? It's so much stuck on my mental, it's so much you on my mind It's so much money and pussy, yeah, you'd think I'm goin' blind I think it's, funny how blogs talk Funny how many shows I had went to where models walked So many stories 'bout you and so-and-so who from Harlem It ain't too many from Harlem, so take a guess Takin' a jet so I can recollect You say, "What's up with you, baby?," I always say, "What's next?" I mean what is we in it for? Revenge from your friends' circle like what did we enter for? Tired of fancy dinners, I'm tired of diamond ballin' I'm tired of hearin' 'bout if this nigga put hands on you Tired of tryna smile through shit that's affectin' us Then I get to overthinkin' if I'm here messin' up Mac died and I couldn't talk, couldn't bear the thought Two days before it, we was talkin' 'bout love and loss Then he mentioned Ariana mama and newer songs Never told a soul, but I knew he was dead all along You do somethin' to me I write all my songs about women I never keep I hate when I have to lose 'em, I hate 'em when it's deep You one of my six women that's in the east I hate makin' promises that I never keep So promise to never ever be too patient with me Justine, promise me uh Love and loyalty, that's over honesty, uh The devil be talkin' but God controlling me, uh Roc Nation dinners that inquire 'bout Meek, uh My God the realest, uh, that's how we meet, uh Yeah, na, na, na, na Yeah, na, na, na, na, na Yeah Harlem Shake on these niggas, you know what I mean?