Say baby... can I be your slave? I've got to admit girl, you're the sh*t girl, and I'm digging you like a grave. Now, do they call you Daughter to the Spinning Pulsar? Or maybe Queen of 10,000 moons? Sister to the distant yet rising star? Is your name Yemaya? Oh, hell no, It's got to be Oshun. Oooh, is that a smile me put on your face, child? Wide as a field of Jasmine and clover. Talk that talk honey, walk that walk money. Hound on legs that'll spank Jehovah. Sh*t. Who am I? It's not important. But they call me brother to the night. And right now, I'm the blues in your left thigh, tryna become the funk in your right. Who am I? I'll be whoever you say? But right now I'm the sight-raped hunter blindly pursuing you as my prey. And I just want to give you injections of sublime erections and get you to dance to my rhythm. Make you dream archetypes of black angels in flight upon wings of distorted, contorted, metaphoric jizm. Come on slim. F*ck your man, I ain't worried about him. It's you who I want to step to my scene. Cause rather than deal with the fallacy of this dry-ass reality, I'd rather dance and romance your sweet ass in a wet dream. Who am I? Well, they call me Brother to the night. And right now, I'm the blues in your left thigh, tryna become the funk in your right. Is that all right?
What's Better Than a Love Jones.