(MORE)LOVE

[Intro: DESTIN CONRAD, Jean Deaux] Love (Listeners, listeners, listeners; Shit) Love [Verse 1: Jean Deaux, DESTIN CONRAD] Miss self sabotage Never alone, what are the odds? I'm a luminous tenant Tried to sit still and mind my business (Oh, love) Everybody need loving If a nigga say its nothing, well (Yeah, right, nigga) He in denial, and the dark from bein' shut in (Love) It's not the state for a coast Couple goals, just crib full of ghosts Call me Ray Stantz, remove the Ray-Bans, ah I can clip 'em in post 'Cause goddamn, sometimes (Love, love, love) [Verse 2: Jean Deaux, DESTIN CONRAD] Lovers turn to leavers (Love, love) Ain't real when it lies or deceive ya (Love) Never clings, he the props like honorees (Love) I love myself too much to say I need you (Love) Badabing, probably, a self hating prodigy (Love) Gotta be a easier way to shake this side of me (Love) Language, a myth with an anchor beneath (Love) My tongue playing dead tired of people pleasing (Love) Love, you feeling grandiose? (Love) Love to get out to denim and get exposed (Love) Cue the lights, oh, I'm spot on how we making love (Love) But we fuckin' with the socks on (Love) Obsessing and stressing and needing breaks (Love) It ain't supposed to feel like a breakdown (Love) Chasing waterfalls, cry me a lake (Love) How you love falling for me but you hitting the brakes? (Love) When it's grief, it'll bring you to you knees (Yes, love) It's the mojo in a bag of bones Soul wins when he rather it, a vagabond Mama love me 'cause I'm paying, she a tag-along Niggas chasing 'til they find out they can't feel me Forever gnawing at thoughts, thinking they fear you But love is no apology for the real me So how is hiding myself meant to heal you? Love spilling out the window of a mouth Stain on the hurt few, haint in the church pew Remnant of slurred blues, dream in a duvet Hate knocking at the door like a witness at the house Two wrongs who, will get it right for balance To Wong Foo, with our baggage, it's a drag race With love letters burnin' fresh inside the ash tray I choose you, still, like whatever ash say [Outro: Jean Deaux] It's called love