Music Video

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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Drake
Drake
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Drake
Drake
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Boi-1da
Boi-1da
Producer
Tay Keith
Tay Keith
Producer
Fierce
Fierce
Producer
Mark Ronson
Mark Ronson
Producer
Kevin Mitchell
Kevin Mitchell
Producer

Lyrics

Maybe in this song, you shouldn't start by saying Nigga, I said it, I know that you mad I've emptied the clip over friendlier jabs You mentioned my seed, now deal with his dad I gotta go bad, I gotta go bad Mm, mm, yeah Drop, drop, drop, drop Drop a fifty bag for the mob in the spot Drop a fifty bag, 29 for the thot Uh, I was really, really tryna keep it PG I was really, really tryna keep it PG If you had a set, they'd give your ass a DP But you civilian gang, in real life, you PC You know who really bang a set? My nigga YG You know who really bang a set? My nigga Chuck T You know who even bang a set out there is CB And, nigga, Cole losin' sleep on this, it ain't me You better have some paperwork or that shit fake tea Can't be rappin' 'bout no rattin' that we can't read I mean, it's true a nigga slimed me for my AP Just like how Metro nigga slimed him for his main squeeze Out here beggin' for attention, nigga, say please Always rappin' like you 'bout to get the slaves freed You just actin' like an activist, it's make-believe Don't even go back to your hood and plant no money trees Say you hate the girls I fuck, but what you really mean? I been with Black and White, and everything that's in between You the Black messiah wifin' up a mixed queen And hit vanilla cream to help out with your self-esteem On some Bobby shit, I wanna know what Whitney need All that puppy love was over in y'all late teens Why you never hold your son and tell him, "Say cheese"? We could've left the kids out of this, don't blame me You a dog and you know it, you just play sweet Your baby mama captions always screamin', "Save me" You did her dirty all your life, you tryna make peace I heard that one of 'em little kids might be Dave Free Don't make it Dave Free's 'Cause if your GM is your BM secret BD Then this is all makin' plenty fuckin' sense to me Ay, let that shorty breathe Shake that ass, bitch, hands on your knees Hands on your knees, hands on your knees Shake that ass for Drake, now shake that ass for free Yuh, yeah Well, not that kind of free, I'm talkin' 'bout my nigga Dave Your man a lil' K, we call that shit a mini Drac' He always said I overlooked him, I was starin' straight These bars go over Kenny head, no matter what I say I know you like to keep it short, so let me paraphrase Knew it was smoke when Abel hit us with the serenade Nigga said, "Uh, uh" Almost started reachin' for my waist Drop, drop, drop, drop Drop a fifty bag for the mob in the spot Drop a fifty bag, 29 for the thot Uh, I was really, really tryna keep it- Yeah Let's stop playin' around and take this shit serious, man Niggas is a joke, I take it serious, though Yeah, look If Drake shooters doin' TikToks, nigga Realest shooter in your gang, that's P's brother Y'all ain't getting shit shot, nigga I can't listen to the stick talk in falsetto Save it for a hip-hop nigga You don't even be at home, dog You a souvenir-out-the-gift-shop nigga Still mad about that one ho, we ain't even fuck I just lip-locked with her I get active when it's wartime I ain't even really let my dick drop, nigga What the fuck I heard Rick drop, nigga? Talkin' somethin' 'bout a nose job, nigga Ozempic got a side effect of jealousy And doctor never told y'all niggas Put a nigga in the bars, let a nigga rot Kind of like your old job, nigga House sittin' on some land But it's out where no one even really know y'all niggas Bitches gotta drive two hours 'fore you pay 'em Just to give a blowjob, nigga Must've snorted up a snowball 'Cause my last record deal was 400 M's These days, that's a low ball, nigga, ay Who's next on the list? Which one of my so-called niggas Which one of my so-called niggas Which one of my so-called niggas Need a shell from the clip? Always knew I had to smoke y'all niggas good kid, m.A.A.d city van We'll pop the latch and let the door slide Tears runnin' down my cheek Laughin' at you pussies dyin', it's a war cry Weeknd music gettin' played in all the spots Where boys got a little more pride That's why all your friends dippin' to Atlanta Payin' just to find a tour guide Abel, run your fuckin' bread Need to buy some more chains for some more guys Let me find another street nigga I can take to the game courtside Let me get a used Ferrari for a rapper Take the nigga on a horse ride Anything to take the spotlight off the fact The boss is a drugged-out lil' punk sissy from the Northside Rakim talkin' shit again Gassed 'cause you hit my BM first Nigga, do the math, who I was hittin' then? I ain't even know you rapped still 'Cause they only talkin' 'bout your 'fit again Probably gotta have a kid again 'Fore you think of droppin' any shit again Even when you do drop, they gon' say You should've modeled 'cause it's mid again Smokin' Fenty 'bout it Should've put you on the first one, tryna get it in Ask Fring if this a good idea The next time you cuddled in that bed again She'll even tell you leave the boy alone 'Fore you get your head split again Pluto shit make me sick to my stomach We ain't never really been through it Leland Wayne, he a fuckin' lame So I know he had to be an influence These niggas had a plan and they finally Found a way to rope you into it Two separate albums dissin', I just did a Kim to it Nigga, skim through it Me and Savage had the hoes drippin' wet at shows Almost had to swim to it K.Dot shit is only hittin' hard when Baby Keem put his pen to it Ross callin' me the White boy And the shit kind of got a ring to it 'Cause all these rappers wavin' white flags While the whole fuckin' club sing to it Murder scene on your man tonight Then come to the vigil with the candlelight Body after fuckin' body and you know Rick Readin' my Miranda rights I'm goin' on vacation now, I hope next time Y'all plan it right 'Cause you gotta pay for sayin' my name Guess now niggas understand the price Nigga, what? (6ix) Ay, Kendrick just opened his mouth Someone go hand him a Grammy right now Where is your uncle at? 'Cause I wanna talk to the man of the house West Coast niggas do fades, right? Come get this ass whoopin', I'm handin' 'em out You wanna take up for Pharrell? Then come get his legacy out of my house A cease-and-desist is for hoes Can't listen to lies that come out of your mouth You called the Tupac estate And begged 'em to sue me and get that shit down I'm losin' perspective on beef Boi-1da send beat and I'll kill you for fun Your daddy got robbed by Top You Stunna and Wayne, like father, like son Anthony set up the plays, Kojo be chargin' You double for nothin' They shook about what I'ma say But textin' your phone like, "We already won" You tell me what I shouldn't say But fuck it, my nigga, it's already done We already know it's a twenty-v-one We already know why you went number one It's clearly because of The Boy The honorable thing is to give me the loot You right about "Fuck the big three" It's only Big D, and there's video proof Our sons should go play at the park Two light skin kids, that shit would be cute Unless you don't want to be seen With anyone that isn't Blacker than you We get it, we got it The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice We get that you like to put gin in your juice We get that you think that you Bishop in Juice When you put your hands on your girl Is it self-defense 'cause she bigger than you? Your back is up against the curb You diggin' for dirt, should be diggin' for proof Why did you move to New York? Is it 'cause you livin' that bachelor life? Proposed in 2015 But don't wanna make her your actual wife I'm guessin' this wedding ain't happenin', right? 'Cause we know the girls that you actually like Your darkest secrets are comin' to light It's all on your face like what happened to Mike Oh, shit, it's all makin' sense Maybe I'm Prince and you actually Mike Michael was prayin' his features would change So people believe that he's actually White Top would make you do features for change Get on pop records and rap for the Whites And wait, you say your brother Jermaine But you wanted him to stay out of the light Oh, shit, just follow me, right? 'Cause nothin' you sayin' could bother me, right? I get off the plane and nothing has changed I head to Delilah with all of my ice Head to Delilah with all of my ice Head to Delilah with all of my ice This shit gotta be over by now For anyone out here that's calling it, right? You're dead You're dead, you're dead There's nowhere to hide, there's nowhere to hide You know what I mean They hired a crisis management team To clean up the fact that you beat on your queen The picture you painted ain't what it seem You're dead
Writer(s): Aubrey Drake Graham, Dave Matthews Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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