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Ignorant Shit

drake-2web[1]

 

[Talking:]

Yeah, I appreciate ya patience tonight

It’s been a moment since I’ve done some public speaking

I find now-a-days it’s just best to keep quiet

But uh, sometimes you just gotta let it out

Young Angel and Young Lion

You know what it is, uh

 

[Drake:]

Look, I’m the property of October

I ain’t drive here I got chauferred

Bring me champagne flutes,

Rose and some shots over

I think better when I’m not sober

I smoke good ain’t no glaucoma

I’m a stockholder,

Private flights back home no stop over

Still spittin’ that shit that they shot ‘Pac over

The shit my mother look shocked over

Yeah, but with a canvas I’m a group of seven

A migraine, take two Excedrin

I’m the one twice over I’m the new eleven

And if I die I’m a do it reppin’, I never do it second

I swear niggas be eyein’ me all hard

And lyin’ to they girls and drivin’ the same cars

Sittin’ there wishin’ their problems became ours

‘Cause we have nothin’ in common

Since I done became star

I done became big swervin’ right in to my peer’s lane

Same dudes that used to holla my engineer’s name

One touch I could make the drapes and the sheers change

An show me the city that I’ll without fear claim

What I set seems to never extinguish

Coolest kid out baby word to Chuck Inglish

Count my own money see the paper cut fingers

My song is ya girlfriend’s wakin’ up ringer

Heh, or alarm, or whatever

She be here at six in the morn’ if I let her

But I never get attracted to fans

‘Cause a eager beaver could be the collapse of a dam

I always knew that I could figga

How to get these label heads to offer ’em good figures

And me doin’ the shows gettin’ everyone nervous ’cause

Them hipsters gon’ have to get alone with them hood niggas

It’s all good I’m goin off like lights when the show’s over

Make pasta rent a movie call hoes over

Rest in peace to Heath Ledger but I’m no “joker”

I’ll slow roast ya, got no holster

Wet glass on ya table nigga no coaster

Burn bread everyday boy no toaster

G and Tez got a sig’ but I’m no smoker

They just handin’ chips to me nigga no poker

I’m with it, Young Money, Cash Money soldier

My cup runneth over,

The same niggas I ball with, I fall with

On some Southern drawl shit

Rookie of the year, ’06 Chris Paul shit

D.R., C.J, an Po I see y’all

These cases don’t workout I hope we can agree on

Makin’ enough to pay any Judge Judy off

First thing I’m a do is free Weezy, go

 

[Lil’ Wayne:]

And I take probation

I don’t want that T.I. and Vick vacation

Private plane, big location

I’m goin’ to the bank to make a big donation

Yeah, I don’t stunt, I stunt hard

And if the food ain’t on the stove I hunt for it

But in the meantime you can call me Young Roy

Jones Junior fightin’ the drugs and gun charge

Shit, don’t leave me unguarded

And I’m a cheese head word to Vince Lombardi

Word to Marky Mark leave a snitch departed

All that blood like the Red Sea parted

My gun go crazy like it’s retarded

Red light on it like it’s recordin’

I ain’t recordin’ I’m jus C4’in

My currency foreign

We are in a league they aren’t

Better dig in ya pocket an pay homage

Better cover ya eyes ya face fallin’

Watch the game from the side I’m play callin’

No I didn’t say that I’m flawless

But I, damn sure don’t tarnish

My pistol got comments for ya garments

I’m so high I can vomit on a comet

K Y no homo I’m on it

Weezy F. Baby new born bitch

You know what they say ’bout when ya palm itch

I’m gon’ get money money I’m gon’ get

Young Money in ya tummy and we gon’ shit

An get that toilet paper quick like when bones spit

That’s right bitch I’m back on my grown shit

That automatic k no ice just chrome shit

And ya’ boyfriend softer than a foam pit

I scream “fuck the world” wit’ a long dick

Motherfucker I’m me, yeah bitch I’m me

You niggas sweet like the pussy in which I eat

Fireman burn down ya’ entire street

So fly I’m a take off when I leap, bye

And you can suck my wings

Stand on my money headbutt Yao Ming

Putcha hand in the oven if ya’ touch my things

I’m shufflin’ the cards ’bout to cut my queens

But I ain’t the dealer

House full of bitches like Tila Tequila

Yeah, I’m the man in the mirror

My swagger jus screamin’ mothafucker do you hear her

Drizzy Drake what the lick read?

We make magic boy Roy and Sigfreid

Whoo! Young Moula baby, yeah

 

 

 

 

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Ignorant Shit

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