Justine's Interlude - A COLORS SHOW

Feels good to be home
 Yeah, yeah, uh
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 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?