Every second, every minute, man I swear that she can get it
Say if you a bad bitch put your hands up high, hands up high, hands up high
Tell 'em dim the lights down right now, put me in the mood
I'm talking 'bout dark room, perfume
Go, go
I recognize your fragrance (hol' up)
You ain't never gotta say shit (woo)
And I know your taste is
A little bit (mmm) high maintenance (ooh)
Everybody else basic
You live life on an everyday basis
With poetic justice, poetic justice
If I told you that a flower bloomed in a dark room, would you trust it?
I mean I write poems in these songs dedicated to you
When you're in the mood for empathy, there's blood in my pen
Better yet where your friends and them?
I really wanna know you all
I really wanna show you off
Fuck that, pour up plenty of champagne
Cold nights when you curse this name
You called up your girlfriends and
Y'all curled in that little bitty Range I heard that
She wanna go and party, she wanna go and party
Nigga don't approach her with that Atari
Nigga that ain't good game, homie, sorry
They say conversation, rule a nation, I can tell
But I could never right my wrongs
'Less I write it down for real, P.S
You can get it, you can get it
You can get it, you can get it
And I know just, know just, know just, know just, know just what you want
Poetic justice, put it in a song
You can get it, you can get it
You can get it, you can get it
And I know just, know just, know just, know just, know just what you want
Poetic justice, put it in a song
I really hope you play this
'Cause ol' girl you test my patience
With all these seductive photographs and all these one off vacations
You've been taken
Clearly a lot for me to take in
It don't make sense
Young East African Girl, you too busy fucking with your other man
I was trying to put you on game, put you on a plane
Take you and your mama to the motherland
I could do it, maybe one day
When you figure out you're gonna need someone
When you figure out it's all right here in the city
And you don't run from where we come from
That sound like poetic justice, poetic justice
You were so new to this life but God damn you got adjusted
I mean I write poems in these songs, dedicated to the fun s*x
Your natural hair and your soft skin, and your big ass in that sundress (ooh)
Good God, what you doing that walk for?
When I see that thing move, I just wish we would fight less
And we would talk more
And they say communication save relations, I can tell
But I can never right my wrongs unless I write them down for real
P.S
You can get it, you can get it
You can get it, you can get it
And I know just, know just, know just, know just, know just what you want
Poetic justice, put it in a song
Every time I write these words they become a taboo
Making sure my punctuation curve, every letter here's true
Living my life in the margin and that metaphor was proof
I'm talking poetic justice, poetic justice
If I told you that a flower bloomed in a dark room, would you trust it?
I mean you need to hear this
Love is not just a verb, it's you looking in the mirror
Love is not just a verb, it's you looking for a maybe
Call me crazy, we can both be insane
A fatal attraction is common
And what we have common is pain
I mean you need to hear this
Love is not just a verb and I can see power steering
s*x drive when you swerve, I want that interference
It's coherent, I can hear it, mmhm
That's your heartbeat
It either caught me or it called me, mmhm
Breathe slow and you'll find gold mines in these lines
Sincerely, yours truly
And right before you go blind
P.S
You can get it, you can get it
You can get it, you can get it
And I know just, know just, know just, know just, know just what you want
Poetic justice, put it in a song
I'm gon' ask you one more time, homie
Where is you from? Or it is a problem (ask him if he here for Sherane)
Ayy, you over here for Sherane, homie?
I don't care who this nigga over here for
If he don't tell me where he from, it's a wrap I'm sorry
Hol' up, hol' up, hol' up, we gon' do it like this, okay?
I'ma tell you where I'm from, okay?
You gon' tell me where you from, okay?
Or where your grandma stay, where your mama stay
Or where your daddy stay, okay? Fuck with all this talkin'
As a matter of fact, get out the van, homie
Get out the car before I snatch you out that motherfucker, homie
---
Poetic Justice - Drake and Kendrick Lamar
