[mary j. blige:]
So burgundy, the window to his soul
It seems he tapes his eyes closed,
From huffin on, thatâs what heâs puffin on.
His style is rough, he wears his hair in cornrolls,
His jeans hang loose and low
So his di..opps he cainât be comfortable I mean, heâs gotta be comfortable.
[jaheim:]
Now sheâs the type thatâs compared to a rose that grew from the concrete,
So sweet ya know,
From the streets yo.
Now sheâs the opposite of he,
Have you ever seen a lion sleep on the bossom of a sheep?
Itâs beautiful.
Yeah thug though.
[both: (chorus)]
Sheâs so beautiful and heâs a thug,
Theyâre so different yet theyâre in love.
Heâs so thugged out and sheâs so beautiful,
Theyâre so perfect cause theyâre in love.
[mary j. blige:]
Picture this, his warm velvet voice on a cold winters night,
Sugar free, bitter truth.
Building life from a slang so divine.
Soul to soul, their flesh pressed,
From a firm of onyx tenderness.
He signed his name with a venom kiss,
Upon a heart, I never heard of such bliss.
[jaheim:]
Now sheâs the opposite of he,
Such as a butterfly and heâs a killer bee.
Yeah, she becomes a victim to his sting,
And heâs amazed by the colors of her wings.
And the life heâs led has left him with some scars,
But, she viewed them all as mid-beauty marks.
The moral of the story, plain as can be,
He loved her cause, he is me.
[chorus: x2]
Da da-da-da da da da-da-da da
Sheâs beautiful and heâs a thug,
Made for each other âcause theyâre in love.
Sheâs a petal and heâs a thorn,
From a different type of story since they were born.
[chorus: x2]