- OR -
in between me and my man.
It's me and Mister Jones.
What kind of f**kery is this?
You made me miss the Slick Rick gig.
You thought I didn't love you when I did.
Can't believe you played me out like that.
No, you ain't worth guest list.
Plus one of all them girls you kiss.
You can't keep lying to yourself like this.
Can't believe you played yourself,
Ruler's one thing,
but come Brixton,
nobody stands in between me and my man.
'Cause it's me,
and Mister Jones.
What kind of f**kery are we?
Nowadays, you don't mean dick to me.
I might let you make it up to me.
Who's playing Saturday?
What kind of f**kery are you?
'Side from Sammy, you're my best black Jew.
But I could swear that we were through.
I still want to wonder 'bout the things you do.
nine and fourteen.
Nobody stands in between me and my man.
'Cause it's me and Mister Jones.