The Joy

Add a little sugar, honeysuckle and
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 the makings of you

I do it for the fore-fathers and the street authors
That are not A&R's in the cheap office
Rappers that never got signed but they keep offers
Girls that's way too fine for us to keep off us
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 planned 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

Add a little sugar, honeysuckle and
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 the makings of you

No Electro, no metro, a little retro, ahh perfecto
You know the demo, ya 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

Add a little sugar, honeysuckle and
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 the makings of you

This is my momma shit
I used to hear this through the walls in the hood
When I was back in my pajama shit
Afro's 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's six-pack of Miller nips
Pink Champale, Ballantine Ale
Ballys 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 Mary's try to judge her, I'm like, "Where the Madonna's 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

Keep you hands up, get 'em high now
Don't let them take your fire
Keep you hands up, get 'em high now
Don't let them take your fire
Keep you hands up, get 'em high now
Don't let them take your fire
Keep you hands up, get 'em high now

It's Pete Rock, Kanye, one, two, okay
It's Pete Rock, Kanye, one, two, okay
It's Pete Rock, Kanye, one, two, okay
It's Pete Rock, Kanye, one, two, okay