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Kanye West, Jay-Z, Curtis Mayfield - The Joy (Album Version (Explicit))

The Joy
Kanye West, Jay-Z, Curtis Mayfield
05:17
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Song lyrics

[Chorus: Curtis Mayfield]
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 all the makings of you.

[Kanye West:]
I do it for the four fathers, yeah, 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 to 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,
Taken 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.

[Chorus]

[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 in one room got Gidget, the other got Bridget,
What's more tripped out, dog, is they sisters,
Naw, you ain't listen, they black, they sisters,
They mama named ‘em 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.

[Chorus]

[Jay-Z:]
This is my mama's shit,
I used to hear this through the walls in the hood,
When I was back on my pajama shit, Afros and marijuana sticks,
Seeds in the ganja had it poppin' like the sample that I'm rhymin' with,
Pete Rock, let the needle drop.
I seen so much as a kid they, surprised I don't needle pop,
Taken sips of pops 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 them parties, from my mama's,
Virgin Mary's try to judge her, I'm like, "Where them 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.

[Chorus]

[Kid Cudi:]
Keep your hands up, get mine up,
Don't let them take your fire.
Yeah, okay. [x4]

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