The Joy Lyric - Kanye West Ft Jay-Z & Curtis Mayfield


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    The Joy Lyric - Kanye West Ft Jay-Z & Curtis Mayfield


    [Hook - Curtis Mayfield:]
    Add a little sugar, honeysuckle lamb
    A great big expression of happiness
    Boy, you couldn't miss with a dozen roses
    Such would astound you
    The joy of children laughing around you
    These are all the makings of you
    [Verse 1 - Kanye West:]
    I do it for the forefathers and the street authors
    That are now A&Rs in the cheap office
    Rappers that never got signed but they keep offers
    Girls that's way too fine for us to keep off of
    Gave her a handshake only for my man’s sake
    She in her birthday suit cause of the damn cake
    Now there’s crumbs all over the damn place
    And she want me to cum all over her damn face
    I never understood planned parenthood
    Cause I never met nobody plan to be a parent in the hood
    Taking refills of that Plan B pill
    Another shorty that won’t make it to the family will
    If I don’t make it, can’t take it, hope the family will
    They ain't crazy, they don’t know how insanity feel
    Don C just had a shorty, so it’s not that bad
    But I still hear the ghosts of the kids I never had

    [Hook]

    [Verse 2 - Kanye West:]
    No electro, no metro, a little retro, ahh, perfecto
    You know the demo, your boy act wild
    You ain't get the memo? Yeezy’s back in style
    Now one room got Gidget, the other got Bridget
    What’s more tripped out, dawg, is they sisters
    Nah, you ain't listen, they black, they "sisters"
    They momma named them after white bitches
    So next time you see me on your fallopian
    Though the jewelry’s Egyptian, know the hunger’s Ethiopian
    Stupid questions like “Is he gon' be dope again?
    Have you seen him? has anybody spoke to him?”
    This beat deserves Hennessy, a bad bitch
    And a bag of weed; the Holy Trinity
    In the mirror where I see my only enemy
    Your life’s cursed, well mine’s an obscenity

    [Hook]

    [Verse 3 - Jay-Z:]
    This is my momma shit; I used to hear this
    Through the walls in the hood when I was back in my pajama shit
    Afros and marijuana sticks, seeds and the ganja had it
    Popping like the sample that I’m rhyming with
    Pete Rock, let the needle drop
    I seen so much as a kid they surprised I don’t needle pop
    Taking sips of pop, six pack of Miller nips
    Pink Champale, Ballantine Ale
    Bally’s on my feet help me balance out well
    That and the shit I used to balance on the scale
    I got it honest from the parties from my momma’s
    Virgin Marys try to judge her
    I’m like “Where the Madonnas now?”
    Give all glory to Gloria
    They said “you raised that boy too fast, but you was raising a warrior”
    We victorious, they’ll never take the joy from us, uh

    [Outro - Kid Cudi (w/ Pete Rock):]
    Keep your hands up, get mine up
    Don’t let them take your fire
    Yeah, okay
    (It’s Pete Rock, Kanye, one, two, okay)

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