Kanye West - The Joy Song Lyrics

Kanye West

Ft: Curtis Mayfield & Jay Z 
Produced By: Jeff Bhasker, Kanye West, Mike Dean  
Written By: Jay Z & Kanye West 

[Produced by Pete Rock]

[Hook: 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

[Verse 1: Kanye West]
I do it for the forefathers, 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 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


[Verse 2: 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 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 sistas
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 Hennessey, 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


[Verse 3: Jay-Z]
This is my momma shit; I used to hear this
Through the walls in the hood when I was back in my pajama shit

Afros and marijuana sticks, seeds in 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 ChampaleBallantine Ale
Bally’s 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 Marys try to judge her
I’m like “Where the Madonnas 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

[Outro: Kid Cudi (w/ Pete Rock)]
Keep your hands up, get mine up
Don’t let them take your fire
Yeah, okay
(It’s Pete Rock, Kanye, one, two, okay)
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