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9 a.m. In Dallas

drake-ama[1]mmm

 

These are my 1 St. Thomas flows, me, my niggas, and some Madonna ho’s

That look just like virgins but trust they down to go, yeah

Discussin’ life and all our common goals

Smart kids that smoke weed, honor roll

 

Look how the champagne diamonds flow

Fine dining, pour another glass when the wine is low

 

I’m in the crib stackin’ money from here to the ceilin’

Whatever it is I got is clearly appealin’

These other rappers gettin’ that inferior feelin’

I hope you feel it in your soul, spiritual healin’

 

Take a look at yourself the mirror’s revealin’

If you ain’t got it you ain’t got it, the theory is brilliant

 

People ask how music is goin’, I heard it pays

I just came off makin’ two million in thirty days

Damn, I guess it does is what the message was

Sometimes I feel I be spendin’ my money just because

 

But Weezy I’m just out here reppin’ us

‘Til I get to shake the hand of the man that’s blessing us

 

Yeah, I know these niggas miss the mean lyrics

Kush got the room smellin’ like teen spirit

I asked kindly if no one out here would bring their feet up

Until I lose, for now I’m the game’s single leader

 

I fly private so no one tells me to bring my seat up

And book a suite where me and your favorite singer meet up

 

Who you like, tell me who it is

I’mma make sure that that woman is the next one on my list

I should call it a night, but fuck it, I can’t resist

This one is for all the niggas from my city tryin’ to diss

 

Without a response from me you really fail to exist

And I love to see you fail that feelin’ there is the shit

 

I swear, ah, pussy nigga get your bread up

Enjoy the seat that the stewardess just forced yo’ ass to let up

Why yo’ scary ass lookin’ down? Pick ya head up

No one told you your disguise is the most ridiculous get-up

 

With nose plugs in now, I can smell a setup

So you’re just wastin’ your time, you only makin’ me better

 

Yeah, I try to tell ’em don’t judge me because you heard stuff

Chasin’ cash, that’s my brother from the surf club

Damn, that nigga always kept it so hood

Back when we would smoke good at the Oakwoods

 

And have girls fall through like coins in a couch

Now we just fuckin’ all the bitches they warned us about

 

Scared for the first time everything just clicked

What if I don’t really do the numbers they predict?

Considerin’ the fact that I’m the one that they just picked

To write a chapter in history, this shit has got me sick

 

But if I really do it don’t expect to get a split

‘Cause this truly is some shit I don’t expect for you all to get

 

I’m nervous but I’mma kill it ’cause they about to let the realest team in

Throwin’ up in the huddle nigga, Willie Beamen

But still throwin’ touchdown passes

In tortoise frame glasses hopin’ that someone catch it

 

People say that old Drake, we started to miss it

But they need to be a little more specific

 

Man is this what y’all want?

In my best Chris Tucker impression

Duckin’ your questions, fuck your suggestions

Money gets all of my love and affection

 

Cars, all black like the cover of Essence

I’m allergic to comin’ in second, but I never sneeze, Y.M.O.E. nigga, yeah

 

Uh, uh, yeah, that’s what y’all want?

October’s Very Own, Young Money, ATF

Thank Me Later in this bitch, what’s up?

Free Weezy in this bitch, what’s up?

June 15th in this bitch what’s up?

Noel, that’s it

 

 

 

 

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9 a.m. In Dallas

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