The song lyrics were written by the band Van Halen, as they were asked to write a song for the 1979 movie "Over the Edge" starring Matt Dillon. The movie (and the lyrics, although more obliquely) are about bored, rebellious youth with nothing better to do than get into trouble. If you see the movie, these lyrics will make more sense. It's a great movie if you grew up in the 70s/80s you'll definitely remember some of these characters from your own life. Fun fact, after writing the song, Van Halen decided not to let the movie use it.
I love it though
I love it though, y'know?
Uh put your hands to the constellations
They way you look should be a sin, you my sensation
I know I'm preaching to the congregation
We love Jesus but you done learned a lot from Satan
I mean a nigga did a lot of waiting
We ain't married but tonight I need some consummation
May the Lord forgive us
May the God's be with us
And that magic hour
I seen good Christians
Make brash decisions
Oh she do it
What happened to Religion?
Oh she lose it
She putting on her make up
She casually allure
Text message break us, the casualty of tour
How she gone wake up and not love me no more?
I thought I was the asshole, I guess it's rubbing off
Hood phenomenon, the Lebron of rhyme
Hard to be humble when you stuntin' on a jumbotron
I'm looking at her like, "This what you really wanted, huh?"
What we argue anyway, oh I forgot its summertime
Put your hands to the constellations
They way you look should be a sin, you my sensation
I know I'm preaching to the congregation
We love Jesus but she done learned a lot from Satan
(Satan, Satan, Satan)
I mean a nigga did a lot of waiting
We ain't married but tonight I need some consummation
When the sun go down its the magic hour
The magic hour
And outta all the colors that are still up the skies
You got green on your mind
I can see it in your eyes
Why you standing there with your face screwed up?
Don't leave while your hot that's how Mase screwed up
Throwing shit around, the whole place screwed up
Maybe I should call Mase so that he could pray for us
I hit the Jamaican spot, at the bar, take a seat
I ordered the jerk, she said, "You are what you eat"
You see I always loved the sense of humor
But tonight you should have seen how quiet the room was
The Lyor Cohen or Dior Homme that's Dior Homme not Dior homie
The crib Scarface couldn't be more Tony
You love me for me could you be more phony
Put your hands to the constellations
They way you look should be a sin, you my sensation
Haven't said a word, haven't said a word to me this evening
Cat got your tongue?
Lookin' at my bitch I bet she give your ass a bone
Lookin' at my wrist it'll turn your ass to stone
Stretch limousine, sippin' Rose all along
Double-headed monster with a mind of his own
Cherry red chariot, excess is just my character
All black tux, nigga shoes lavender
I never needed acceptance from all you outsiders
Had cyphers with Yeezy before his mouth wired
Before his jaw shattered climbin' up the Lord's ladder
We still speedin' runnin' signs like they don't matter
Uh, hater talkin' never made me mad
Never that not when I'm in my favorite papertag
Therefore G4's at the Clearport
When it come to tools fool I'm a Pep Boy
When it came to dope I was quick to export
Never tired of ballin' so it's on to the next sport
New Mercedes Sedan, the Lex' sport
So many cars D.M.V. thought it was mail fraud
Different traps, I was gettin' mail from
Polk County, Jacksonville, rep Melbourne
Whole clique's appetite had tapeworms
Spinnin' Teddy Pendergrass vinyl as my j burns
I shed a tear before the nights over
God bless the man I put this ice over, uh
Gettin' 2Pac money twice over
Still a real nigga, red Coogi sweater, dice roller
I'm makin' love to the angel of death
Catchin' feelings never stumble retracin' my steps
I love it though, y'know?
Uh put your hands to the constellations
They way you look should be a sin, you my sensation
I know I'm preaching to the congregation
We love Jesus but you done learned a lot from Satan
I mean a nigga did a lot of waiting
We ain't married but tonight I need some consummation
May the Lord forgive us
May the God's be with us
And that magic hour
I seen good Christians
Make brash decisions
Oh she do it
What happened to Religion?
Oh she lose it
She putting on her make up
She casually allure
Text message break us, the casualty of tour
How she gone wake up and not love me no more?
I thought I was the asshole, I guess it's rubbing off
Hood phenomenon, the Lebron of rhyme
Hard to be humble when you stuntin' on a jumbotron
I'm looking at her like, "This what you really wanted, huh?"
What we argue anyway, oh I forgot its summertime
Put your hands to the constellations
They way you look should be a sin, you my sensation
I know I'm preaching to the congregation
We love Jesus but she done learned a lot from Satan
(Satan, Satan, Satan)
I mean a nigga did a lot of waiting
We ain't married but tonight I need some consummation
When the sun go down its the magic hour
The magic hour
And outta all the colors that are still up the skies
You got green on your mind
I can see it in your eyes
Why you standing there with your face screwed up?
Don't leave while your hot that's how Mase screwed up
Throwing shit around, the whole place screwed up
Maybe I should call Mase so that he could pray for us
I hit the Jamaican spot, at the bar, take a seat
I ordered the jerk, she said, "You are what you eat"
You see I always loved the sense of humor
But tonight you should have seen how quiet the room was
The Lyor Cohen or Dior Homme that's Dior Homme not Dior homie
The crib Scarface couldn't be more Tony
You love me for me could you be more phony
Put your hands to the constellations
They way you look should be a sin, you my sensation
Haven't said a word, haven't said a word to me this evening
Cat got your tongue?
Lookin' at my bitch I bet she give your ass a bone
Lookin' at my wrist it'll turn your ass to stone
Stretch limousine, sippin' Rose all along
Double-headed monster with a mind of his own
Cherry red chariot, excess is just my character
All black tux, nigga shoes lavender
I never needed acceptance from all you outsiders
Had cyphers with Yeezy before his mouth wired
Before his jaw shattered climbin' up the Lord's ladder
We still speedin' runnin' signs like they don't matter
Uh, hater talkin' never made me mad
Never that not when I'm in my favorite papertag
Therefore G4's at the Clearport
When it come to tools fool I'm a Pep Boy
When it came to dope I was quick to export
Never tired of ballin' so it's on to the next sport
New Mercedes Sedan, the Lex' sport
So many cars D.M.V. thought it was mail fraud
Different traps, I was gettin' mail from
Polk County, Jacksonville, rep Melbourne
Whole clique's appetite had tapeworms
Spinnin' Teddy Pendergrass vinyl as my j burns
I shed a tear before the nights over
God bless the man I put this ice over, uh
Gettin' 2Pac money twice over
Still a real nigga, red Coogi sweater, dice roller
I'm makin' love to the angel of death
Catchin' feelings never stumble retracin' my steps
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i don't fully understand the second verse but i love the first verse a whole lot, and bink! totally fuckin KILLZ the production