Drake - For All The Dogs Lyrics
Virginia Beach
I bet your mother would be proud of you, ooh (you, you, you, oh)
I bet our mother would be proud of you, oh
I know what you say
You say I coulda treated you better or whatever, but
I don't know, I think I did alright
Know what I'm sayin'?
And you know how you get
Drawin' conclusions like you got a Parsons degree or somethin'
I coulda treated you better, that's crazy
Nope
Lean in, lean in soda, Fanta, fantasizin'
That's not love you're in, it's more like compromisin'
I'd move mountains for you, f*ck that social climbin'
Lean into me, lean in to me
Yeah, lean in, lean in to me
Pussy, it makin' me tweak, ended up stayin' a week
She pretty but ghetto, pretty but rough, just like Virginia Beach
I wanna get back to the days that you love me
For nothin' but what you could see
You bust down the Jubilee, I swapped it and made you go factory, wait
You put some pain in me, I wanna get back to the major league
She wanna grab on the throttle, I wanna get back in the driver's seat
That nigga spend his last check on your car
And you got it and drove it to me
Ask me if I coulda treated you better, but no
Lean in soda, Fanta, fantasizin'
That's not love you're in, it's more like compromisin'
I'd move mountains for you, f*ck that social climbin'
Lean in to me, lean in to me
Lean in, lean into me
Yeah, yeah
Yeah
Grr, grr
Yeah
Our texts feelin' like a fencin' match
Your temper shorter and I'm sensin' that
You keep talkin' 'bout some, "Period"
But where you 'bout to end the sentence at?
'Cause you been goin' off on my ass, then I tell your ass where I'm at
And you act like I'm not supposed to mention that
I introduce you to my friends' girlfriends
You ain't interested in makin' friends
Talkin' 'bout you wanna cook for a nigga in the kitchen, can you make amends?
Least we know you got the cakes on you
Girl, you should prolly stick to bakin' then
Workin' this crop like the rubber chute
I swear that I'm not tryna smother you
I got to know a whole other you, but let's not forget how I discovered you
We ain't even gotta mention that, any nigga try and trouble you
He gon' find out that it's on site like W-W-W
On site like dot-com, put a baby in you, you a hot mom
Yeah, ask me if I coulda treated you better, but no
Not at all, not at all
I bet our mother would be proud of you, ooh (mother would be proud)
Writer: Aubrey Drake Graham, Christopher Breaux, Harley Arsenault, James Ryan Wuihun Ho, Noah James Shebib
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Amen
Father God
I come to you to say thank you
That's all, I don't wanna ask for anything, I just wanna say thank you, Lord
Thank you
Prayin', prayin' (thank you)
Pray again, pray again (thank you, Father)
Prayin' (thank you, Lord)
Prayin' 'til you find a man
That's gon' treat you
That's gon' treat you like I can (amen, amen)
That's gon' please you
That's gon' please you like I can (church)
Church like a priest, Turks for the week
Purse for yourself, purse for your niece
Know you don't do Percs, baby, but (take your time)
That's the perks of datin' me
Red Merces with the red seats
Buy red wig, part the Red Sea
With a neat freak, gettin' mess-
God, forgive me
Father, I've sinned
Sent more than your father ever sent
Spent more than your baby father did
And you my baby, so I gotta put you in the crib
Same neighborhood where Ashton Kutcher live
I'm just doin' what that punk should have did (thank you Lord)
She prayin' for me while I'm on the road
Prayin' for me while I hold her close
Prayin' that there's not no other girl
I'm prayin' that these girls'll never know
She prayin' asking God for a sign
I just went and paid her car note
Turn to your neighbor
Say "Neighbor"
Prayin', prayin' (neighbor)
Pray again, pray again (everybody, say it)
Prayin'
Prayin' 'til you find a man
That's gon' treat you
That's gon' treat you like I can
That's gon' please you
That's gon' please you like I can
Thank you for calling Mercedes Benz of Beaumont
If you know your party's extension, you may dial it at any time
Or dial "9" for company directory
For sales, please press "1"
Writer: Aubrey Graham, Aaron Thomas, L Scholefield, K Wright, R Stanfield
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Calling For You
Grr
I was in the club 'fore she even had it
She was twenty-one, I don't see a savage
She wanna be the one, she know I come with static
She wanna hold the gun, if you want it, you can have it
Shawty still young, so she don't know the classics
I see her body, one-of-one, yeah
I see her body, one-of-one
Get to the crib, make you cum
Pussy sweet, call you my honeybun (tss)
I know your nigga was a bum
F*ck on the crodie, have some fun
Girl, I'm the king of my city, I'm the one (tss)
Swear you can't have me, you really one-on-one (tss)
How you so nasty? You really one-of-one (tss)
How you so flashy? You really one-of-one (tss)
Out in Miami, you still a one-of-one (tss)
I wanna beat on the pussy 'til the sun come up
You f*cked on a nigga I see as my son, so what?
Yeah, I was in the club, but I was in the cut
Had liquor in my cup, yeah passion in my cup
And Addy in my system, see a opp, I'ma hit 'em up
Yeah, he gon' be a victim, I was tryna dance with the bitch
Couldn't keep my hands off her hips
Know she spent some bands on her fit
Know I told you that she really one-of-one
Cro', yeah, she advanced with the shit
And I got a chance with the bitch
Loverboy, romance with the bitch
Couldn't even put my mans on a bitch
Like, damn
Callin', callin' for you
Callin' for you, callin' for you
Callin' for you
Just to keep talkin' to God
My eyes feel Him on me
Needin' you to hold me
'Til the inevitable
It was on my mind, felt it on me
Ah, he lied to me
Yo, he lied to me
Like I didn't give a f*ck that we sat in economy
I gave a f*ck 'cause he said the economy was full
It was not full
He said, "Economy was-"
He said, "There was no first class, so we're sitting in economy"
I get up on that plane
I see so many seats in first class
Twe- like twelve, fourteen seats
Bruh
I sat in the back of the plane
F*cking crazy
And then, I go in that whack-ass vacation
The chef is feedin' us the same meal every day
Like I was like in jail still or somethin'
I'm like, "Why are we eatin' jerk chicken and oxtail every single day
Can we switch it up?"
No, the oxtail was fire though, but can we switch it up?
I can't eat that shit every day, what?
And then you proceed to go through my phone
You wanted to cry
You were lookin' for something
That's on you, it's on you
Sorry for your loss
Woah, woah
F*ck nigga wanna get fired on (21)
Starch a nigga up, put the iron on him (21)
Fah-fah-fah-fah-fah-fah-fah-fah
Fah-fah-fah-fah-fah-fah-fah-fah
Plenty niggas dyin' over that way (yeah)
Quick to leave a opp in the ashtray (pussy)
Keep a .19 like I'm Mac Dre (21)
Make a nigga mama have a bad day (21)
21 gang 4L, these niggas gon' tell
I ain't goin' back and forth on deals (on God)
I ain't goin' back and forth, send shells (on God)
I ain't goin' back and forth, nigga, spin (fah)
Put a college bitch in a Benz (21)
Put her in the Benz, no, no (21)
Hit 'em from the car, no scope (21)
We don't never tie, we score (on God)
She suck on my neck like she Dracula (yeah)
Hit from the back, I might tackle her (yeah)
Don't ask 'bout my opps 'cause we smackin' 'em (yeah)
F*ck my opps, they haters (pussy)
F*ck my opps, they hoes (pussy)
The bitches that come around suck dick and don't pull they phone out
Dem ones pros (on God)
Bitch, if you love me, then spoil me (21)
I treat the rap game like a toilet (on God)
All of my kids get left in her mouth, she say she don't believe in abortions (21)
Oh, you ain't got you a boyfriend? (21)
I see he be on his dork shit (21)
Nah, I ain't judgin', but they in the nosebleeds
You know I be on my court shit (facts)
Writer: Aubrey Graham, C Smalls, D Graue, F LeBlanc, G Memishi, J Milfort, M McCollum, R Cypriano, Noah Shebib, Sheya Abraham-Jospeph
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Fear Of Heights
Ayy, ayy, look
Why they make it sound like I'm still hung up on you?
That could never be
Gyal can't run me
Better him than me
Better it's not me
I'm anti, I'm anti
Yeah, and the sex was average with you
Yeah, I'm anti 'cause I had it with you
Okay, I'm auntie like your daddy's sister
Auntie like a family picture
And I had way badder bitches than you, TBH
Yeah, that man, he still with you, he can't leave
Y'all go on vacation, I bet it's Antilles
Let me stop
You know what? F*ck it, let me go
What? Ayy, what? Ayy, what? Ayy
Girl, you make me wanna cuff you like the law, huh
Girl, you make me wanna work you like the job, ayy
I know you a cat, but can your pussy do the dog?
Let's go pound for pound, I'm in Europe
Chrome Heart Culli', I had it imported
Got in my feelings, I had to record it
I never met a bitch that wasn't for it
Don't pay for pussy, I tip for the service
Let's keep it frank, I just got dessert
I'm in the G-Wagen Maybach
Just like some currency, baby, they had to convert it
I heard your bank account is on stuck
How can you keep it buck if you ain't got no bucks?
How can you keep it a hundred if you ain't got hundreds around
'Cause you stackin' 'em up?
You niggas some pussy, for real
You niggas some sissy, for real
Virginia, I pull up and chill
You know you can't come where I stay
'Fore you get caught on a date
'Fore you get put on a plate, ah
'Fore you get slid on like skates
'Fore I get turned on like bass
I know that look on they face
Don't tell me you're scared of Lil' Drake
Don't tell me you're scared of Lil' Aubrey
My niggas is crazy, Wallahi
Don't even know how we escape
The chain on her neck is a A
And she got a lot that she need
So she gotta drop to her knees
Then she can go shoppin' for free
I got up with a opp at the mall
That nigga was coppin' a plea
Out the country, I link with OZ
Spendin' money ain't foreign to me
Y'all don't do that shit more than me
Y'all don't do this shit more than me
He might take you on trips and he might have some hits
But, baby, not more than me
He might be at the trap and order some ones
But ain't throwin' more than me
What? Ayy, what? Ayy, what? Ayy
Girl, you make me wanna cuff you like the law, huh
Girl, you make me wanna work you like the job, ayy
I know you a cat, but can your pussy do the dog?
Writer: Aubrey Graham, Benjamin Saint Fort, Darryl Clemons, Machado Joseph, Nik Frascona, Ozan Yildrim, Simon Gebrelul
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Daylight
You're all a bunch of f*cking assholes
You know why?
You don't have the guts to be what you wanna be
You need people like me
You need people like me so you can point your f*cking fingers
And say that's the bad guy
Yeah (808 Mafia)
Grah
Treat all my exes like Jehovah witnesses
Free all the dogs and f*ck all the witnesses
They sittin' down, we standin' on business
Ayy, standin' on business
Standin' on business
Standin' on business
Standin' on, ooh
I'm tryna f*ck all the bitches that look like my ex
I'm makin' her vex, I'm too complex
I carry a whole lotta gold on my neck
He talkin' down, he get put in a lake
Cappo the type to show up to the wake
I'm geekin' hard, don't know what to take
Don't know what I took
My doggy got booked for actin' like Book
Shot 'em in, ayy
Shot 'em in daylight
Shot 'em in daylight
Shot 'em in daylight (shot 'em, shot 'em, what? Shot 'em)
Shot 'em in daylight
Shot 'em in daylight
Shot 'em in daylight (woah, damn)
She went to jung' and bought a body
I wasn't there when they caught the body
TPS think that I bought the body
Internet swear that I bought the body
Take more than that to go pop somebody
Them niggas talk about everybody
So lowkey I'm happy they got somebody, nigga, what?
Like what's in your shoe? We sockin' niggas
Like what's on your wrist? We clockin' niggas
Like anyone home? We knockin' niggas
We clumsy as f*ck, we droppin' niggas
Like Lenny Kravitz show, we rockin' niggas
Like tennis indoors, we squashin' niggas
Like combo number one, we whoppin' niggas, nigga, what?
We grabbin' his girl and we leavin' a note
She broke up with him and deleted a post
She said she was vegan, she eatin' a goat, what
I'm geekin' hard, I know how it look
Don't know what to take, don't know what I took
My doggy got booked for actin' like Book
Shot 'em in- what
Shot 'em in daylight
Shot 'em in daylight
Shot 'em in daylight (shot 'em, shot 'em, what? Shot 'em)
Shot 'em in daylight
Shot 'em in daylight
Shot 'em in daylight, bro
Don't talk to my man like that
I like it, when you make it
My, my, my, my man
My, my, my, my man
Don't talk to my man like that
I like it, when you make it
My, my, my, my man
My, my, my, my man
You know which one you want
I don't care which one you want
You can take whatever
I don't care what you do
I will always watch 'em for you
Writer: Aubrey Graham, Adonis Graham, A Bevilacqua, J Luellen, M-K Brown, T Cremeni
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
First Person Shooter
(Pew, pew-pew)
First person shooter mode, we turnin' your song to a funeral
To them niggas that say they wan' off us
You better be talkin' 'bout workin' in cubicles
Yeah, them boys had it locked, but I knew the code
Lot of niggas debatin' my numeral
Not the three, not the two, I'm the U-N-O
Yeah
Numero U-N-O
Me and Drizzy, this shit like the Super Bowl
Man, this shit damn near big as the-
Big as the what?
Big as the what?
Big as the what? Ayy
Big as the Super Bowl, but the difference is
It's just two guys playin' shit that they did in the studio
Niggas usually send they verses back to me
And they be terrible, just like a two-year old
I love a dinner with some fine women
When they start debatin' about who the G.O.A.T
I'm like, "Go on 'head, say it then, who the G.O.A.T?
Who the G.O.A.T.? Who the G.O.A.T.? Who the G.O.A.T?"
Who you bitches really rootin' for?
Like a kid that act bad from January to November
Nigga, it's just you and Cole
Big as the what?
Big as the what?
Big as the what? Ayy
Big as the Super Bowl
Niggas so thirsty to put me in beef
Dissectin' my words and start lookin' too deep
I look at the tweets and start suckin' my teeth
I'm lettin' it rock 'cause I love the mystique
I still wanna get me a song with YB
Can't trust everything that you saw on IG
Just know if I diss you, I'd make sure you know that I hit you
Like I'm on your caller ID
I'm namin' the album The Fall Off
It's pretty ironic 'cause it ain't no fall off from me
Still in this bitch gettin' bigger
They waitin' on the kid to come drop like a father to be
Love when they argue the hardest MC
Is it K-Dot, is it Aubrey or me?
We the big three like we started a league
But right now, I feel like Muhammed Ali
Huh, yeah, whoa, huh, huh
Yeah, Muhammed Ali
The one that they call when they shit ain't connectin' no more
Feel like I got a job in IT
Rhymin' with me is the biggest mistake
The Spider-Man meme is me lookin' at Drake
It's like we recruited your homies to beat demon deacons
We got 'em attending your wake
Hate how the gang got away from the bars, man, this shit like a prison escape
Everybody steppers, well, f*ck it
Then everybody breakfast and I'm 'bout to clear up my plate
(Huh, huh, huh)
When I show up, it's motion picture, Blockbuster
The G.O.A.T with the golden pen, the top toucher
The spot rusher, sprayed his whole shit up, the crop duster
Not Russia, but apply pressure
To your cranium, Cole's automatic when aiming 'em
With The Boy in the status, a stadium
Nigga
Ayy
I'm 'bout to, I'm 'bout to
I'm 'bout to, yeah
Yeah
I'm 'bout to click out on this shit
I'm 'bout to click, whoa
I'm 'bout to click out on this shit
I'm 'bout to click, whoa
I'm down to click out on you hoes and make a crime scene
I click the trigger on the stick like a high beam
Man, I was Bentley wheel whippin' when I was nineteen
She call my number, leave her hangin', she got dry-cleaned
She got a Android, her messages is lime green
I search one name, and end up seein' twenty tings
Nadine, Christine, Justine
Kathleen, Charlene, Pauline, Claudine
Man, I pack 'em in this phone like some sardines
And they send me naked pictures, it's the small things
You niggas is still takin' pictures on a Gulfstream
My youngins richer than you rappers and they all stream
I really hate that you been sellin' them some false dreams
Man, if your pub was up for sale, I'd buy the whole thing
Will they ever give me flowers? Well, of course not
They don't wanna have that talk, 'cause it's a sore spot
They know The Boy the one they gotta boycott
I told Jimmy Jam I use a Grammy as a doorstop
Girl gave me some head because I need it
And if I f*ck with you, then after I might eat it, what?
Niggas talkin' 'bout, "When this gon' be repeated?"
What the f*ck, bro? I'm one away from Michael
Nigga, beat it, nigga, beat it, what?
Beat it, what? Beat it, what? Beat it, what? Beat it, what?
Beat it, what? Beat it, what? Beat it, what? Beat it, what?
Beat it, what? Beat it, what? Beat it, ayy, beat it, what?
Don't even pay me back on none them favors, I don't need it
Writer: Aubrey Graham, A. Hernandez, I. De Boni, Jermaine Cole, J. Washington Jr., M. Mule, M. Samuels, O. Yildirim, T.B. Chambers
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
IDGAF
Traveling forever in the dark
Darkness into blackness
There and back, it's always black
Oh-ah, it screeched across the sky
Nothing to do but lie
F*ck the bitch, I make her sweat, huh, I'ma die by my respect, huh
I put a check up on my neck, life check ya in the head
I signed for a couple milli', you only touched a hundred thou'
(I-I-I-)
Man, I don't give a f*ck who it is
I called up my twizz' (BNYX)
Don't give a f*ck what y'all on (I-I-I-)
Man, f*ck all of you (all of you)
Yeah, I don't be givin' no f*cks (not one)
Uh (just pull up, pull up, woah)
I don't know if you caught on (caught on)
I don't be givin' no f*ck (huh)
I say whatever I want, yeah, I do whatever I want, huh
I'm countin' up money for fun
And I'm poppin' these Percs just for fun (the E)
Look, comin' live from the-
Comin' live from the one out the five
Comin' live from the three, two time
Whole gang f*cked her eastbound and they down just like Danny McBride
Why I always see your dawgs in the city?
Think your boys left some soldiers behind
Just like the J, you boys try to vibe
That ain't gon' fly, nope
I took that one off of the table
October's Own, it's a label
I stay with that on like a tie
I stay with that on like a bagel
I stay with that on like a lightsaber
Shout' to my ex, I'm her lifesaver
My Glocky, it sit on the night table
You light on the waist like a lightsaber
In Seattle, it's just me and Twizz'
I hate you boys more than I ever did
You rappin' 'bout shit that you never did
My dawg in the can like a metal lid
Three the kid, three the kid, three the kid
I don't be givin' no f*cks (not one)
Uh (just pull up, pull up, woah)
I don't know if you caught on (caught on)
I don't be givin' no f*ck (huh)
I say whatever I want, yeah, I do whatever I want, huh
I'm countin' up the money for fun
And I'm poppin' these Percs just for fun (the E)
All of my twizz' got a gun (blam)
Couple of my twizz' on the run (phew)
Couple of my twizz' sellin' Runtz (the E)
Couple of my twizz' cut 'em up (the E)
Yeah, couple of my twizz' sell a bunch
Heard your money got took like it's lunch (hah)
We on the side and we punt
Bitch, I sleep in the day, I'on see sun (uh-huh, yeah)
Big body Lamb' truck sittin' outside in the sun
It get you caught up, get you fried
You don't really have no swag, so what you did?
Your little buddy tried to take mine (woo)
I never needed no help, I never needed nobody, I wait in no line (woo)
Gonna be a minute, tell the time
If you did the crime, bitch, why you cryin'?
I just pulled up in a big body, I got a lot of money comin' in
I just got off the phone with my demon and he told me that I'm gon' win
I can't be wasting time on the 'net, I just be running up a f*ckin' check
F*ck the bitch, I make her sweat, huh, I'ma die 'bout my respect, huh
I put a check up on my neck, life check ya in the head
I signed for a couple milli', you only touched a hundred thou'
Ain't nobody steal ya style, ain't nobody want yo' sauce
Tell me who the f*ck gon' fall off, tell me who gon' make it out?
I don't be givin' no f*cks (not one)
Uh (just pull up, pull up, woah)
I don't know if you caught on (caught on)
I don't be givin' no f*ck (huh)
I say whatever I want, yeah, I do whatever I want, huh
I'm countin' up the money for fun
And I'm poppin' these Percs just for fun (the E)
(I-I-I-)
Writer: Aubrey Graham, Noah Smith, Benjamin Saint Fort, J Taylor, N Winston, S Shah
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
7969 Santa
Wait, wait, wait, wait, what, damn
Damn, that's how you're dealing with me, damn
Damn, that's how you're-, that's how you're-
Ayy, look, look
Who the f*ck is that? It's a disguise
You ain't who I thought I recognized
Twenty thousand pound on your rent
Bitch, I coulda spent that on the guys
I don't like what you did on them trips (shit I don't like)
I don't like what you did to your lips (shit I don't like)
I don't like the tone of your replies (shit I don't like)
I don't like the look that's in your eyes (shit I don't like)
Blame this shit on being 25
That excuse for me just doesn't fly
'Cause Zack keeps sayin' me, that's seven-nine
And that shit just gon' have you on my mind
Yeah
And I just wanna get you off of my mind
I just wanna get you off of my mind
I just wanna get you off of my mind
Ayy, yeah, damn
Damn, that's how you're dealing with me, damn
Damn, that's how you're dealing with me, damn
I just wanna get you off of my mind
Seven-nine-six-nine, seven-nine-six-nine, seven-nine-six
Seven-nine-six-nine, seven-nine-six-nine
Ayy
Since I had some space to myself
I typed some shit, then I erased what I felt
That talk we had the other day didn't help
'Cause you really think you're out here moving stealth
I met the nigga everybody say you f*cked
And I could tell he wasn't acting like his self
Got you out here moving waste like a belt
If it ain't him then it must be somebody else
Damn
I don't like what you did on them trips (shit I don't like)
I don't like what you did to your lips (shit I don't like)
I don't like you tellin' just one side (shit I don't like)
I don't like the fact you never cried (shit I don't like)
Blame that shit on being 25
That excuse for me just doesn't fly
Zack keeps sayin' meet at seven-nine
And that shit just gon' have you on my-
Baby, dogs will be dogs (you know I made mistakes)
Though we may run (but I promise)
Leave the door open
Tonight I'm coming home (coming home)
Dogs will be dogs
No leash in sight
Leave the door open
I'm coming home tonight (I need my dogs)
Ah-woo, ah-woo
Ah-woo, ah-woo (let me hear my dogs)
Ah-woo (yeah)
That's that new Teezo touchdown
Straight for all the dogs that's drivin' around in Beaumont
Lookin' for some cat
All you pitbulls should know by now that hundreds in a row
Look like tuna in a bowl
This is Curtis Cut-A-Bitch-Off
And you're listenin' to B-A-R-K Radio, live from Chapel Hill
Where the South was won. Whatever that means
We got some new Drake and SZA comin' up
And we gon' be givin' away some Drake tickets as well
You know we comin' to the H-Town to tear the roof off that motherf*cka
This is B-A-R-K Radio
Writer: Aubrey Graham, Aaron Thomas, Alex Lustig, Keith Cozart, Jahan Sweet, Benjamin Saint Fort, T Taylor, T Pittman, N Lieberthal
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Slime You Out
I don't know
I don't know what's wrong with you girls
I feel like y'all don't need love
You need somebody who can micro-manage you
You know what I'm sayin'?
Tell you right from wrong
Who's smart from who's a fool
Which utensil to use for which food, like
I got a schedule to attend to though
I can't really
6ix
You bitches really get carried away
Makin' mistakes, then you beg me to stay
Got me wiggin' on you like I'm Arrogant Tae
You got my mind in a terrible place
Whipped and chained you, like American slaves
Act like you not used to Sheraton stays
I met the nigga you thought could replace
How were there even comparisons made?
This next time, I swear on my grandmother grave
I'm slimin' you for them kid choices you made
Slimin' you out, slimin' you out, slimin' you out
Ayy
This ain't the littest I could get on you bitches
Sent wires on wires on wires, like Idris
Lucky that I don't take back what was given
I could have you on payment plan 'til you're hundred and fifty
And my slime right here, she got some bars for y'all niggas
So I'ma fall back and let SZA talk her shit for a minute
Slimin' you out, slimin' you out, slime
Damn, these niggas got me so twisted
How the f*ck you so real, but play bitch on my line?
I can feel what you spendin'
Got too much pride to let no burnt nigga slime me out
Pull up, go right about, my night, got time
Let's discuss all those lies about
Frontin' out here, like you diggin' me out
And I ain't even come, and I'm in and out
And you ain't 'bout the shit you rappin' about
And I can spin the ho', I'm airin' it out
I'm goin' on like it's sawed-off
You tellin' these hoes you ain't cuddlin'
But with me you know, doin' all that shit
You tellin' these hoes you ain't trickin' off
But with me you know, I'm gon' get it all
How you niggas get so carried away?
Trippin' when that dick is barely third place
F*cked out of pity, it's cute that you lame
Damn, 'cause it's men actin' fake like it's hangin'
Slimin' you out, I'm slimin' you out, I'm slimin' you out
Oh-whoa oh, whoa
Yeah
January, you pretend to see life clearly, yearly
February is the time that you put the evil eye and the pride aside
For the fantasy of gettin' married, very scary
March got you already second guessin' titles
April, Spring is here, and just like a spring you start to spiral
May brings some warmer days
Poolside gettin' very tan
June have you movin' ice cold, goin' back and forth with a married man
July, that's when I found out you lied
August, it was "Baby this", "Baby that", like you had your tubes tied
September, we fallin' off, but I'm still the man you tryna win over
October is all about me, 'cause your turn should've been over
November, got you moodboardin' for next year and you're single
December the gift givin' month, and now you wanna rekindle, I
Tryna build trust, showin' me your DM's, how they tryna bag you
Ironic how the news I got about you ended up bein' bad news
Get a nigga hit got fifty racks, girl, the beef cost, like it's Wagyu
Get a nigga hit, I'll make his ass see the light, like a half-moon
Shout to QC, pretty sure I made P M's, like it's past noon
All I really know is W's and M's, life lookin' like a bathroom
All I really know is M bags, like I drove through in with a fast food
Sayin' that I'm too guarded with my feelings, who the f*ck even asked you?
Seven bodyguards, just incase somebody really wanna try and crash through
Don't know why I listen to you when I hear you talkin' to me, it's some half-truths
If I don't pay your rent, it end up like a old hairstyle, girl, it's past due
If I don't
Ah, ah, that's as far as I got
Writer: Benjamin Saint Fort, C. Powell, Dalton Tennant, Grant Lapointe, Aubrey Graham, Noel Cadastre, Noah Shebib, Solana Imani Rowe
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Bahamas Promises
Dogs, man
Yeah, For All The Dogs
Mm, oh-oh-oh, ayy-ayy
Hailey, it's sad that I know all the tea
Broken pinky promises, you f*cked up our Bahamas trip
I know that you're not for me
Hailey
I'm tired of your apologies
You put the "No" in monogamy (no)
You know that you're not for me
Hailey
I'm slidin' down Black Creek
My friends say they wanna meet (but I don't have the energy)
But I don't have the energy 'cause, ooh
I'm tired of your apologies, oh
Broken pinky promises, you f*cked up my Bahamas trip
I know that you're not for me, Hailey
You're livin' in my mind for free
And for someone you don't miss, I sure feel like somebody you need
Hailey
You ain't got nowhere to be
It's 'cause you should've been with me
The list of things we could've been
Damn
Guess I'll see you in my dreams
I'm f*cked up off of T3
Promise I won't cause a scene
I got too much respect for me
Dogs, man
Yeah, For All The Dogs
Writer: Aubrey Drake Graham, Jahaan Sweet, Ray Nelson
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Tried Our Best
Oh, oh
Oh, oh
Oh, oh
Oh, oh
Oh, oh
Oh
I swear that there's a list of places that I been with you
I wanna go without you
Just so I can know what it's like to be there without havin' to argue
Swear I didn't have the discipline to leave your ass at home
You make it hard to
This life'll take a lot of listenin' to one another
Shouldn't have involved you
I know not to now
Leave you at home if I wanna have a good night
Leave you at home if I wanna have a good time
Peace of mind
Leave you at home, bein' honest with you sometimes, I might
Leave you at home, blue bubbles blowin' my line, hard times
Stressed out, bad vibes
Treat you like
Treated you like
You're one of mine
Treated you
Treated you
Treated you, treated you
Treated you, treated you
Treated you, treated you
Treated you, treat you right
Treat you right
There's no ribbon given to anyone that you dealt with
No badge of honor, no ceremony or benefits
I gotta start us up a support group with a membership
Your girl's in the bathroom laying down white lines like supremacist
Wockhardt and Sierra Mist
Champagne, Eggs Benedict
Zoom call with her therapist
I'll cater to you, girl, but late night, you a terrorist
The girl that the boy cherishes workin' late night at the Pyramid
And it ain't right
Ain't something I can make right
F*cking up another date night
F*cking up another great night
Message read like a brake light
Words sharp like a steak knife
Fishing for some answers in that ocean with a f*cking great white
We in the club with your gay friends
Always put you on a straight flight
You YSL like buy me some
I'm YSL like a snake bite
I swear to God, you think I'm Shakespeare
That's why you always wanna play, right?
This ain't something I can make right
Treat you like
Treated you like
You're one of mine
Treated you
Treated you
Treated you, treated you
Treated you, treated you
Treated you, treated you
Treated you, treat you right
Treat you right
Treat you right
Treat you right
(Wockhardt and Sierra Mist)
(Treated you, treated you)
(Treated you, treated you)
(Treated you, treated you)
(Treated you, treated you)
Ooh, ooh, ooh
Ooh-ooh
Writer: Aubrey Graham, Jahaan Sweet, Noah Shebib
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Screw The World (Interlude)
Ayy
I never player hate
Uh, 'bout to screw the world
F*ck what you doin', you can't f*ck with my crew
Screw the f*ckin' world, I don't care
Mr. Nine-Six, syrup in my cup
Bustin' down, smilin' 'round, and I got them girls
Mr. Damn Screw, I would never jheri curl
Way back in the days, now I'm ballin', f*ck a fade
I don't give a damn, and I'm pimpin', pushin' plays
Popped up, chopped, them boys ain't gon' like it
F*ckin' with the greatest, them boys, they'll spike it
I can't tell you much, player drankin', damn sober
Never flippin' through the cut, we ain't, we ain't sober
Mr. Nine-Six, big bag of tricks
Right before your eyes, Screwed Up Click
My clique down with million, I'm down with the mean
Some still drank, some push the damn lid
I don't give a damn 'cause we all got a dub
Came up from a scrub, now I pull up
We go through the door to the floor
I'ma do it and I like to play my shit slow
Uptempo is the beat
I'm laid back and blowin' on a Sweet
Put your ass to sleep, do it
Writer: A O'Bryant, A Felder, D Reeves, JC Olivier, J Hutchins, K Walker, L Smith, N Jones, N Harris, S Barnes
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Drew A Picasso
(Baby, you know, you know, you know I need your love)
You cannot find no one better than this
Try to do right by you, but we can't mix, I tried
Takin' three months off, then f*ckin' again
After you said we not f*ckin' again
Never say "Never," just say what it is
Act like you need some insurance on this
We didn't get here on accident
Don't make me bring out them racks again
Your two best friends are some savages
Damn, how many days has it been?
Swearin' it's different, not genuine
Movin' like Snoopy and Charlie Brown
Feel like you tryna dog the kid
You're mine
Too many reasons why
I can't picture you with him
That's just so embarrassin'
I want to die, to die
I swear that I wanted you back then
Waitin' on you like a backend
You bad as f*ck, ain't no cappin'
Statements you claimed never happened
This can't be the shit that you doin' to me
All of them nights you was slidin' around
Told me what niggas was doin' to you
That's the same shit that you doin' to me
You in the city, you laid up with him
While I'm on the road with no one to see
There's no way (baby, you know, you know, you know I need your love)
'Cause you cannot find no one better than this
Try to do right by you, but we can't mix, I tried
F*ckin' and arguin', f*ckin' again
After you said we not f*ckin' again
Probably coulda made it work again if I
Was man enough to tell you you was wrong
Man enough to not put it in a song
For the world to sing along
Man enough, I coulda told you on my own
Man enough to admit that
Paragraph I sent last night, yeah, I probably shoulda never sent that
And when you layin' on your stomach, only time I ever wanna get my lick back
How the outsiders know the inside?
They was never supposed to get that, nah
And that's just so embarrassin'
I want to die, to die
Ayy, I'm the one that you was wishin' for when you was married
That tale wasn't much of a fairy
Christmas, it wasn't that merry
You a trophy to me like the Larry
Ayy, I'm the one that you was wishin' for
Ayy, I'm the one that you was wishin' for
In Miami and the owls with me like they just put my ass in Gryffindor
Mouth dry off a twenty that I never bother gettin' no prescription for
Steez sayin' that you miss me and I won't say it to you, but I miss you more
Said we got each other back
And then you put the knife in it like the kitchen drawer
Way I'm feelin' on this album, really took it easy on you
Coulda written more
If the shoe was on the other foot and it was me, it woulda been guerilla war
Since you know I got a soft spot for you, this has turned into a civil war
Artists hittin' on you, broke as f*ck
I swear them niggas probably live in Singapore
The athlete that you rollin' with
I saw his game last night, he didn't score
F*ck, I gotta say a little more
Show you spots you never been before
It's f*cked up that we was goin' once
And now you're goin' twice like a biddin' war
Why you act like just 'cause I go to the strip club, girl
That I don't love you?
You still listenin' to R. Kelly in the whip, baby girl
And I don't judge you
I'ma end this shit and let the 40 beat play before I snap
In Booby Trap, throwin' more bills than your baby daddy trap
Yeah, grrah
Writer: Aubrey Drake Graham, D. Wagner, Eliel Afari Brown, John Alexander Hyszko, Kamyar Karimi, Noah James Shebib, P. Campbell, Sampha Sisay, Thomas Lumpkins
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Members Only
Wait
Wait, wait, wait, yeah
Wake up every day
Lord, please guide my way
I'm so grateful (yeah)
I can't wait for September
'Cause that means that next month, it's goin' down like timber
You're too down with the gangy, you're one of my members
She gotta represent for the guys now
They gotta see a part of me in her (yeah)
Red flag, blue flag, green flag, and a white flag to surrender (yeah)
My ex girl was a head case, I cannot defend her
You're too down with the gangy, you're one of my members
They see you comin' 'round in the realest way
Now them hoes gettin' friendlier
You're too down with the
You're too down with the gangy, with the gangy
With the, what? With the gangy
You're too down with the members
You're too down for the O, girl, f*ck November, December
Ask them other guys in the city what happened
L-O-L gang, we the last ones laughin'
Are you jackin' them or jackin' us?
When you ride around the 6ix, girl
Are you slappin' them or slappin' us?
I know the answer
I'll take you farther than Mexico (yeah, yeah)
You still got niggas hard pressed on you though (yeah)
I know you, shorty a ten, but not the messy ho (yeah)
You standin' tall like the star-spangled
I'll give you my all if you're ready for it
Hop off the block if you're Jenny for me (yeah)
Hop off the yacht with the Henny for me (gangsta, gangsta, gangsta)
You know the airport is callin' our name
You know the Clearport is callin' our name
I'll take you farther than Biscayne, my girl (woo, gangsta, gangsta, yeah)
You're too down with the gangy, you're one of my members (yeah)
They see you comin' 'round in the realest way
Now them hoes gettin' friendlier
You're too down with the
You're too down with the gangy, with the gangy
With the, what? With the gangy
You're too down with the members
You're too down for the O, girl, f*ck November, December
You're too down for the O, girl, the O, girl
Going deeper inside, my feelings can't subside
These walls are so thin, you gon' wake up the whole eastside, girl
Feel like I'm bi 'cause you're one of the guys, girl
All jokes aside, you gon' wake up the whole eastside
Wake up the whole eastside
Comin' from Jahron B side
On the road, goin' eighty
I live like forty minutes from you, that sex drive is crazy
You used to jack the other side, but that shit doesn't phase me
Not at all
Those guys were never gangy, those guys are in a strange place
Say you started datin' girls now, say it to me with a straight face
Oh, now it's girls
I wanna know all of your kinks
I wanna touch more money than Brinks
I bet I could change how you think
I know, I know I could have us both
Both cummin' at the same time like, "Jinx," I'm talkin' dirty
Time to arch that back and put both hands down like 6:30
N-Y-see me later when I'm right there like New Jersey
All your friends keep judgin' us, it's like you're my attorney
Writer: Jahron Brathwaite, Aubrey Graham, Noah Shebib, Steven Vidal
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
What Would Pluto Do
Damn, okay (yeah)
I been out the way in the cut, it's been a minute (been a minute)
Workin' on the album, now it's finished
Last time I saw her, she was f*ckin' with my nigga
So the question is, the question is
What would Pluto do? He'd f*ck the ho, so I did it (yeah, yeah)
What would Pluto do? He'd f*ck the ho, so I did it (yeah, yeah)
What would Pluto do? He definitely f*ckin' on this ho, ayy
Wigglin' back into my old ways, ayy
Bunch of sedatives, hypnotics in my system, okay
Life is goin' just how I predicted, okay
Droppin' two Cialis in her liquid, okay
I ain't got a strap, I gotta risk it, okay
Baby girl, Adonis need a sister, okay
And my baby mama out the picture, okay
Think I'm 'Luminati 'cause I'm rich, well okay
Diamonds in the sky
Put your face down, ass in the air
Two cups stuffed, ayy, bussin' off pill
Keep our shit trill, crack a new seal
New Rolls, bought it for the thrill
Too lazy to even change out the wheel
Yeah, thought they knew my body, guess they don't
Thought they knew my body, guess they don't, ayy
Thought they knew my body, guess they
Ayy, guess they don't
I'm geekin' off of my pride (yeah, yeah)
Lost my Sprite deal 'cause Wayne kept pourin' fives
You know I'm beefin' with much older guys (much older guys)
'Fore I catch up with them, they'll probably
Ayy, what, R.I.P. them f*ck niggas (damn, what)
What, really hate a rap nigga
Let's not even talk about them f*ck niggas, f*ck them
Hit my line talkin' about what's up, well, what's up then?
Last time I saw you, you was talkin' 'bout reduction
Lookin' at you now, I see you ain't get rid of
Lookin' at you now, I see you ain't get rid of nothin'
Where you get that jeans from? Who sewed the buttons?
'Cause that shit still poppin' out the front and the back
That shit still poppin' out the, damn
That shit came poppin' out them jeans like a ghost
Girl, you gotta pop that on me like a Coke
Swear I wanna crack behind your back like a joke
Swear I wanna lift you up high like your hopes
Swear I wanna tear your box out like a coach
Get inside and bend a dick just like the pope
Girl, you got me begging for a ten, like I'm broke
Girl, I want us hangin' out in the summer like a coat
Girl, I wanna slide in your box like a vote
Tryna have you comin' out your shell like the yolk
But I heard that you f*ckin' with a nigga that I know (okay, so?)
Damn, okay ('kay)
I been out the way in the cut, it's been a minute (been a minute)
Workin' on the album, now it's finished (yeah, it's done)
Last time I saw her, she was f*ckin' with my nigga
So the question is (yeah), the question is (yeah)
What would Pluto do? He'd f*ck the ho, so I did it (yeah, yeah)
What would Pluto do? He'd f*ck the ho, so I did it (yeah, yeah)
What would Pluto do? He definitely f*ckin' on this ho
(Yeah, yeah)
Writer: Aubrey Drake Graham, Benjamin Saint Fort, Bennett Pepple, Gentuar Memishi, Miles Parks McCollum
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
All The Parties
Ayy
Ayy, ayy
Grr
Yeah, Jason got money that glow in the dark
Hit up the dawg like I'm OVO Mark
Walk-in closet, got more Chrome than a Stark
Forty K a night to sleep at the Mark
Guess it's time for me to cover the shark
Me and KD 'bout to turn up the art
F*ck you hoes, I swear I'm breakin' your heart
It's broken
I bought the house just to knock that shit down
I bought the Rolls just to take it apart
She bought an ass, now she makin' it arch
Doctor's office was the last time that you niggas even had your name on a chart
Shawty graduated, playin' it smart (ayy, yeah)
Used to be a smarty
Used to wanna study, now she poppin' Addies
She at all the parties, T'd up with 3Hunna
She just did her body, she in love with Sosa
Girl, you such a thottie
Ayy, Sosa, baby
Used to be a smarty
Used to wanna study, now I drop the addy
And she at all the parties, T'd up with 3Hunna
Showin' off her body, she in love with Sosa
Girl, you such a thottie, ayy
Money on my mind, I'm rackin' my brain
Shout to Lil' Palestine, she with the gang
Shout to lil' A1 from Foxwell and Jane
Shout to lil' Izzy, she work as a stewardess
I should probably go and get her the Plain Jane
Free Baby M out the shackle and chain
Me, my evil twin, we one and the same
Shout to Machine from the Wood, free 17 from the Lane
R.I.P. Smoke, it's a shame, I'm bumpin' 'em all in the Range
I love all y'all niggas the same, I wish this was back in the day, for real
Forty deep in the East End
We call it swimmin' in the deep end
My bitches playin' PND and them
Them shorties don't listen to Weeknd
They archin' back and makin' knees bend
And they ain't graduate but they geekin'
And they live in a crib with a cheap rent, yeah
And I wish I could dead all the beefin'
And I wish I could dead all the dissin' deceased friends
I wish we could be friends
Probably sound like I'm preachin'
The city might sleep in some peace then
But it's not realistic
What's realistic is money that we spend
We coppin' cars like policemen
We heavy guys like obese men
I keep showin' love to the streets and
It's still three the guys 'til they free men, yeah, yeah
And it's 6ix side town, a dead end world
East End boys and West End girls, yeah
East End boys and West End girls, ayy
Used to be a smarty
Used to wanna study, now I send the addy
And she at all the parties, T'd up with 3Hunna
Showin' off her body, she in love with Sosa
Girl, you need a hobby
This is the starchild, a.k.a. DJ Pooper Scooper
What's on top of the house? Roof
What's in the top of your mouth? Roof
What's Babe name? Roof
What do a dog say? Roof
We comin' to tear the what off? Roof
They raise your tax, we raise the roof
B.A.R.K. Radio
Writer: Aubrey Graham, Benjamin Saint Fort, Harley Arsenault, Maneesh Bidaye, Matthew Samuels
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
8am in Charlotte
Alright, Adonis, tell me about your beautiful piece of artwork that you sold me
So, umm, it's the same story
So, the goat was running away from the other mon-
From the other monsters, and, and the other animals
And, um, a flower blocking the way
Um, so, the flower's on fire
The racing car was maybe helping the goat
And there was this, um, some stairs, who's like a jail stairs
And there was, and there was, um
One person who was like, on top and he got killed by the stai-by the trap
Okay, so it's almost like a little story?
Yes
And what is SBW?
So, i-it's not a word, but I just wanted to write SBW
Okay, you like those letters?
Si
And what, and-and Daddy's name is next to the goat, does that mean that he's the G.O.A.T.?
Yes, so it's Daddy Goat
Daddy Goat?
Yeah
That makes perfect sense to me
And do you wanna, do you wanna talk about how much
How much money you got for your beautiful drawing?
Oh, please
(Conductor)
Yeah
I'm out here on the road
You can hear it in the voice
Still get this shit off, though
Look
The money speakin' for itself, I call it fortune-tell
Fire top from a bitch that work in corporate sales
Chinchilla ushanka, we skiin' out in Courchevel
Breakin' news, they tried to kill him, but the boy prevails
I leave for tour and my niggas f*ckin' go to jail
Preachin' to the dogs 'bout wantin' more for themselves
It's weighin' heavy on my moral scale
Knowin' they gon' sell another citizen 'cane, they think they Orson Welles
Walk in Chanel, they like, "How the f*ck you need more Chanel?"
I got these cats tuckin' tails on fourth-quarter sales
I'm used to seein' tears drop over enormous meals
The restaurant clears out faint echoes of Lauryn Hill
I say, "We gotta talk about us," I feel like Jordan Peele
Could tell I'm gettin' under your skin like a orange peel
'Cause your words don't match your actions like a foreign film
And now it's silence in the Lamb' like the horror film
Things get quiet after me statin' the obvious
Things get kinky after fifteen years of dominance
That October sky is lookin' ominous
The money is autonomous
Shout to Oliver North, he out in Rome doin' Toronto shit
And Jeremiah the watchdog, you niggas know what time it is
I'm in and out of Houston Hobby so much, I'm a hobbyist
Hoes waitin' on Cench in the lobby, that boy a lobbyist
Savage got a green card straight out of the consulate
Where I go, you go, brother, we Yugoslavian
Formal is the dress code, dawg, so many checks owed
I feel Czechoslovakian, nigga, what the f*ck?
Nah, I'm movin' different right now, for real, like
I feel like if Mike switched out the glove for the pen, like
This shit just too enticing right now, you know?
Look
Diamonds do the silly dance, I raise up the wine glass
Metal detectors beepin', and security bypass
The numbers goin' up, someone pull up the line graph
The days are goin' by, it's like I'm livin' in time lapse
Been talkin' to Adel like he majored in finance
Shania Twain, notepad, I'm makin' it line-dance
You tryna rob me and it's gon' feel like you sittin' at your favorite restaurant
'Cause, nigga, that's where you dyin' at
Mob ties, I swear we like a bitch with fine sisters and fine cousins, the family all bad
I'm preachin' to the dawgs about cleanin' they images
I swear I'm like a young T.D. Jakes to my menaces
Long-kiss goodnight, PDA for my nemesis
Three hunnid acres, PGA on the premises
That's what's really brackin' like this verse in parenthesis
I'm givin' hits to niggas on some, don't even mention it
Like, don't even worry about it, like
You can get me back whenever, or
Or don't, you know?
It is what it is, I guess
Yeah, hm
Look
You young boys take some of that money and set it aside
Not having enough to pay your tax is a federal crime
You niggas obsessed with me and it's not on no hetero vibe
Handle beef so quiet, you think that I'm lettin' it slide
Next thing you know, we tip-toeing past enemy lines
Diss me so long ago, we makin' your memories fly
Conspiracy theories start floatin' around like the Kennedy guy
I'll prolly hold a grudge against you guys 'til I'm seventy-five
Ayy, niggas lyin' for a living, I couldn't relate
We all gotta lay in the bed we make, but that couldn't be Drake
You forced a lot of fake love when real ones stood in your face
That's why you got deserted by your niggas, like pudding and cake
I got you on camera bowing down, but the footage is safe
Thank God, another USB to put in the safe
Thank God, at the crib, dippin' my foot in the lake
I swear that y'all turning me into the villain, I couldn't escape
Not sayin that I'm the best at what I do
I'm just saying that it's me versus whoever wanna lose
Pick anyone of the "who's who's", I got two 2's for new crews
R.I.P. to the DJ from Houston, we loose screws
Helicopters, cop lights, and news crews
Niggas steady cryin' to my daddy, well, boo-hoo
You probably heard a lot about the boy, well, true-true, haha
Yeah
(Be grateful, that he was there)
Writer: Aubrey Graham
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
BBL Love (Interlude)
Bust that pussy open for a real one
She call me her baby like I'm still one
They say love's like a BBL, you won't know if it's real until you feel one
Can I feel it? Can I feel it? Can I feel it? Can I feel one?
Can I feel it? Can I feel it? Can I feel?
Sometimes, I think to myself, "What if I was somebody else?"
Would your ass still be here?
What if I had a CDL
Leavin' outta STL, on the way to ATL in a big 18-wheel
Would your ass still be here?
Would your ass still be here?
Would you love Ed like you love Drake?
Love Fred like you love Drake?
Love Greg like you love Drake?
Love Ced like you love Drake?
Thought you said that you love Drake?
Thought you said that you love Drake?
Thought you said, ayy
Your man brought you to the Drake show
Front row and paid all cash
Dressed up to the nines, girls showin' all titties, showin' all ass
Lookin' at me like you're single, lookin' like you got a hall pass
Better take your ass home tonight
And love that man like you say you love Drake
I'm a well-known player, I'm a well-known trick
I'm as well as well-known gets with a long list
Of some ho-ho-hoes still waitin' on a gift
Guess them ho-ho-hoes still believe in Saint Nick, yeah
I'm a Saint, alright? I Franklin Saint a bitch
I don't know what you thought this was, baby girl, but that ain't this
I don't know who said you was slick
Now my uncle, that boy slick
I don't know who said you was thick
Now see, that girl thick
Nah, I ain't name droppin', I'm just game droppin'
I'm just plane hoppin'
Hoppin' out and hoppin' in
You gon' have to run that top again
These boys prayin' I don't drop again
This is Sade Adu
And you're listening to BARK Radio
Writer: Aaron Thomas, Aubrey Drake Graham, Kaushik Barua
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Gently
Yeah
My G, Tití came VIP with a baño
Baby, my wrist is from Casablanco
Me gusta su sonrisa aunque me haga daño
I live like Sopranos, Italianos
I've been el chico for cincuenta años
Me gusta su culazo perreando
Le da hasta abajo, le gusta este tamaño
Dale, Papi Champaño, jheez
Ah, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh
Either I slow down the trip or I speed up the visa
Me nah wan' leave ya
Grab Eliza, bring her to Ibiza
Introduce you to Richie Akiva
My broski Benito, he needs a bonita
A freak-ah, bien loquita
Gracie Bon mi amor, mi amiga
Ella sabe que está bien rica
¿Usted se cree que yo quiero que
Me invierta mi dinero en la 42
Donde la gente está bailando dembow?
Ey, ja, ey, ey, ey
Ay, santo, Dios mío, qué acicale
En RD están to's mis cueros, en PR to'a las gyales
Las mías se roban el show si sale
To's quieren ser yo, pero no les sale
En Casa de Campo, chucky, en México ando bélico
Baby, vo'a joderte el cosmético
Trépate encima, ponme la ski-mask
Bajen la luz y cierren la cortina
Que no quiero video, estoy harto de la foto
Estoy harto de to'l mundo, meno' de ese toto, de ese toto, je
Meno' de ese toto, de ese toto, je, ey
Botella de champaña yo las descorché
Me puse bellaco cuando la escuché
Decirme "Papi" adentro 'e la Porsche
F*ck, mami, holy shit
Qué rico tú chinga', je
Las boris me piden bicho, las cubana' quieren pinga
"F*ck me so good", me dice la gringa
Mami, te pasaste, ey
La baby tiene marido y no me dijo na', je
Tranquila, eso no e' na'
Doscienta' botella y por ahí vienen má'
Por ahí vienen má'
La baby tiene marido y no me dijo na', je
Tranquila, eso no e' na'
Mucha' bebecita y por ahí vienen má'
Por ahí vienen má'
Writer: Aubrey Graham, Benito Martinez Ocasio, Ozan Yildirim, Nik Dejan Frascona, Diamante Anthony Blackmon
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Rich Baby Daddy
Is it all? I could be enough
Is it all? I could be enough
Is it?
Bend that ass over (baow), let that coochie breathe (yeah)
Shake that ass, bitch, hands on your knees (ho)
Hands on your knees (ho), hands on your knees (ow)
Shake that ass for Drake (yup), now, shake that ass for me
Bend that ass over (baow), let that coochie breathe (yeah)
Shake that ass, bitch, hands on your knees
Hands on your knees, hands on your knees
Shake that ass for Drake (yeah), now, shake that ass for me
Ayy, I still got some love deep inside of me
No need to lie to me, I know you got a guy
He's not a guy to me
Just say goodbye to him then take the ride to me, ride to me
I still got some love deep inside of me
Please drag it out of me
You just might
Just might get that G-Wagon out of me
Please drag it out of me, please drag it out
Rollie gang, patty gang, rich baby daddy gang
I'm with Red like I'm at a Cincinnati game
Hood bitch, tat her gang 'fore she tat her name
Real bitch, held me down 'fore I had a name
Heard there's money on my head, what is that to me?
I put a hundred bands on him, he put a rack on me
We from two different worlds, but it's a match to me
To bend it over only time she turn her back on me (for real)
Bend that ass over (baow), let that coochie breathe (yeah)
Shake that ass, bitch, hands on your knees (ho)
Hands on your knees (ho), hands on your knees (ow)
Shake that ass for Drake (yup), now, shake that ass for me
Bend that ass over (baow), let that coochie breathe (yeah)
Shake that ass, bitch, hands on your knees
Hands on your knees, hands on your knees
Shake that ass for Drake (yeah), now, shake that ass for me
You been so good and you deserve to end your suffering
I need good dick and conversation, can you comfort me?
I got a feeling this is more than what we both say
I got a feeling this is more than a feeling
I can't let you get away
Feels good, but it can't be love
Ain't a damn thing that I do
Ain't a damn thing, oh
Bend that ass over (ow), let that coochie breathe (yeah)
Shake that ass, bitch (ooh), hands on your knees (ooh)
Hands on your knees (oh, bend it), hands on your knees
Shake that ass for Drake (yup), now, shake that ass for me
Bend that ass over (yeah), let that coochie breathe (yeah)
Shake that ass, bitch (yeah), hands on your knees (hands on your)
Hands on your knees (hands on your), hands on your knees (yeah)
Shake that ass for Drake, now, shake that ass for me (shake, shake, shake)
You like my voice, I turn you on
Red weave, it match my thong
He heard about me, know my song
I drive him crazy, can't leave me 'lone
Foreign trucks, I pull up (skrrt, skrrt)
Thirty inches to my butt
Nails done, I'm fine as f*ck
Niggas tryna see what's up
I'm lucky
I'm lucky
I'm lucky
I'm lucky
Bend that ass over (baow), let that coochie breathe (yeah)
Shake that ass, bitch, hands on your knees (ho)
Hands on your knees (ho), hands on your knees (ow)
Shake that ass for Drake (yup), now, shake that ass for me
Bend that ass over (baow), let that coochie breathe (yeah)
Shake that ass, bitch, hands on your knees
Hands on your knees, hands on your knees
Shake that ass for Drake (yeah), now, shake that ass for me
You know the root of it
You know the lies and you know the truth of it
I see the future and I can see you in it
Girl, I'm not stupid, so don't pull no stupid shit
I swear, poppin' my shit come with consequences
Post-nut clarity, I came to my senses
I knew it was love when it started as a friendship
Askin' 'bout a baby, we should probably get a Frenchie
And take care of the dog
Take care of the dog
Until the dog days are over
The dog days are done
And you know I'm the one, I'm the one
The dog days are over, dog days are done
And you know I'm-
We was f*ckin' night after night, I'll change your life
You ain't even know how to suck it right, I taught you right
You ain't even heard of Grace Bay 'til I bought the flight
You ain't even know how cold you was 'til I bought you ice
You can't even look at him the same, we a different type
You just text me trippin', I reply, "Have a safe flight"
Wanna stick around for the ride, baby, hold on tight
Writer: Aubrey Graham, Solana Rowe, Janae Wherry, Benjamin Saint Fort, Y Chain, T Schaeferdiek, D Ford, D Blackmon, M Fellander-Tsai, S Barot, R Zastenker, I Summers, F Welch
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Another Late Night
(Grow up, nigga)
Grrah, grrah, ayy
This lil' Drizzy reppin' 'Crete, ayy
My brother Capo from the way, he from the street, ayy
Wanna f*ck with me? Well, baby, I'm discreet, ayy
Ayy, thinkin' 'bout this pill I took, pillow talkin'
Shawty rinsin' Dillon Brooks, can't believe this nigga talkin', damn
My bank account is magnolia, Milly rockin', ayy
Weirdos in my comments talkin' 'bout some Millie Bobby, look
Bring them jokes up to the gang, we get to really flockin'
Or send a finger to your mama in some FedEx boxes
Open up that shit, it's jaw droppin', really shockin', ayy
I ain't pretty flacko, bitch, this shit get really rocky, ayy, what?
Damn, what?
Dirty how I did him in the Wraith, what? Say
She actin' Hollywood, this ain't L.A., no way
She a pretty little lie like she Shay, but that's bae
Long as she don't lie to me, then it's okay
It's just another late night with my bitch, ayy
Just another late night with my bitch, ayy (with my bitch)
And I hate to even call her ass my bitch, ayy (yeah, my bitch)
'Cause I love that ho, don't even make no sense, man (pssh, pssh)
Just another late night with my dawg (pssh, with my dawg)
Just another late night with my bitch (pssh, with my bitch)
And we ridin' 'round tryna make sense (make sense)
Of whatever comes first, it comes next (yeah, blatt)
Hm, hm (grrah, pssh), hm (yeah, pssh), hm (yeah, pssh)
Hm, hm (pssh), hm (concrete), hm
Huh, yeah (pssh), huh, yeah, yeah, huh (pssh)
It's Lil Boat, I'm practically now from the 6ix (pssh, pssh)
My doggy Lucky ignorant, he from the bricks
Thinkin' 'bout this styrocup, really Wockin'
Let her f*ck on one my opps, let's see who really poppin'
Demolition gang, pop out, yeah, we get it knockin'
Boost a white bitch up and now she think she really poppin'
F*ck my bitch new body, sadly, I got demoitis
My bitch know it's us without openin' either of her eyelids (us)
It be so pure I don't even f*ck, ain't tryna raise her mileage
You take G6s knowin' you'll never take one with pilot ('kay)
I let her go, she fine as hell but baby wasn't stylish (yeah)
She had big tits like Billie Eilish but she couldn't sing (drip)
We catch the opps, don't want no apologies, just kiss the ring (mwah)
(Brrt) Yeah, ring, (brrt, damn), yeah, ring
(Brrt) Mwah, ring, (brrt), yeah, ring
I'll support the opps before I support sippin' green ('kay)
We up in the Turks with twenty bitches, just me and my team, (us)
It's just another late night with my bitch, ayy
Just another late night with my bitch, ayy (with my bitch)
And I hate to even call her ass my bitch, ayy (yeah, my bitch)
'Cause I love that ho, don't even make no sense, man (pssh, pssh)
Just another late night with my dawg (pssh, with my dawg)
Just another late night with my bitch (pssh, with my bitch)
And we ridin' 'round tryna make sense (make sense)
Of whatever comes first, it comes next (yeah, blatt)
Writer: Aubrey Graham, Miles McCollum, D Jackson
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Away From Home
(I-I-I-) Ayy, what?
It's so, is it real?
Yeah, ayy
Give a f*ck if they remember
I was in the cold, windows froze
I was sleepin' in the whip tryna get a f*cking grip
I remember
Didn't have no hoes tryna go, all these rappers lil' broed me, f*ck, f*ck
F*ck 'em, I remember
Way before they had a f*ckin' DM
I was whippin' in the Ac' like that shit was European
I remember
I remember drivin' Holland Tunnel for a label meetin'
Thinkin' 'bout more cake than a funnel
I remember
Now these niggas don't remember
I know Neeks remember, I know Jay remember
Chubbs'll make them boys remember
Dead broke, splittin' pennies with my members
F*ck a spread, we was splittin' chicken tenders (I-I-I-)
'Member I was sleepin' in the basement
Watchin' Tigger in the basement, I was tryna get a placement
I remember
Days in the East with the bros
Watchin' Tristan and Devoe while they runnin' up the score
I remember
TT was headed to the league
I was sleepin' up at Metalworks tryna plant a seed
I remember
Rollin' through the city, gettin' beats
Always peepin' out the streets 'cause I was beefin' with the bleeks
I remember
I was tryna get a portion, tryna make a fortune
B-town with Candy, I'm tryna be her boyfriend
3 AM at Y2, runnin' off endorphins
Start adoptin' my brothers' beefs like a orphan
I was still on Rose when it's pourin' and stormin'
This shit is not rewardin', I do not feel important
I wanna see some scratch from the shit that I'm recordin'
In Memphis smokin' Blacks, tryna act like I enjoy them
A Maurice Francois Girbaud what I'm sportin'
And Mos Def gave me like a rack for performin'
Crib I got now make me think of when I had to put some money on a mortgage
This don't feel like home anymore
It's just wall, doors, and floors
That only I can afford
Remember when it used to mean more, mean more
I got money in the top drawer
That ain't much, but we not poor
You're mine and I'm yours
Like a broke couple, we don't wanna court, for sure
I remember pullin' up at TAO, seein' Quincy Jones
Nigga talkin' to me like he proud
I remember
I remember Mike designed the owl
Then he sued the f*cking guys and he duckin' until now
I remember
'Member Reesie stayin' at the house
Then she left me for my dog like she never took the vow
I remember
My cousin Ryan fronted me a pound and I couldn't even flip it
Had to bring it back around
I remember
I remember printin' up our T-shirts with Kyle
We in love with the same girl, beefin' like a cow
I would pick them shits up, nigga wouldn't even smile
Nigga better crack a smile 'fore we do a nigga foul
To keep it real, I wasn't really gangster 'til now
I was livin' on a cloud, I was quiet as a mouse
I was in the club gettin' lost in the crowd
Wasn't doin' what I wanted to, I do what was allowed
I remember fightin' over Monica with Jason
I remember only knowin' Andre and Jason
I remember buyin' all the iceberg from Jason
That's three different Jasons, my life like The Matrix
Even got on 106 & Park with replacement
My mama was my manager, my uncle was my agent
Dr. Dre'll send a nigga home, that took patience
Four GRAMMY's to my name, a hundred nominations
Esperanza Spalding was gettin' all the praises
I'm tryna keep it humble, I'm tryna keep it gracious
Who give a f*ck Michelle Obama put you on a playlist?
Then we never hear from you again like you was taken
Who the CEO of Universal? They mistaken
'Cause Google sayin' Lucian, but that just doesn't make sense
Who fillin' up the piggy bank? Who bringin' home the bacon?
This shit don't come on vinyl, I'm still record-breakin'
How could I forget? How could I forget?
I was on a Greyhound way before the jet
Buffalo, New York was like the furthest I could get
At the Walden Galleria tryna make the money stretch
Student Price Card and a Yorkdale connect
Whole time, Courtney Smith was keepin' me in check
Try and find an inch of the city I ain't stepped in
If it's war, I'll lay my life down for the set then
Yeah
And I put that shit on Mads and that nigga was my best friend
Yeah
And I put that shit on Johnny Bling, that nigga was my best friend
Right
And I put that shit on Richard, that nigga was my best friend
Ayy, yeah
Broke his right hand, still took a fight with his left hand
I remember
I remember
Yeah
I-I-
Writer: Aubrey Graham, Benjamin Saint Fort, Miles McCollum, L Levine, J Raisen
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Polar Opposites
Yeah
Ayy
Tweakin' on vacation with me
You set limitations with me
Why do I get treated different?
I don't know how you run the bases with me
Then say nothing sacred with me
Why do I get treated different?
Sun is setting on the Atlantic, I bet a full moon is gonna show
Wondering what rocks your boat
What keeps your heavy heart afloat
I don't know, I don't know
Bipolar baby, seems like it just went undiagnosed
Blocked me on everything, that's so immature, so unprovoked, I
Don't even know why
Had plans to understand ya
Mariana, you broke my faith
Why you gotta listen to the propaganda?
We just broke the ice, and now you're both leaving
I was being kind, I don't understand ya
You should let your sister be the voice of reason
Either it's your text that I'm misreading
Or it's just your actions are misleading
Don't know how they do things in Pristina
I just know the tension is increasing
It's plenty people dead to me still breathing
Plenty other ways to get over people
You ain't had to step on me to gain freedom
No, no, you remind me of someone I think you know
You know and I know things that she didn't know
I'm not the same person I was five drinks ago
You tried to grease me, but we're not in Mykonos
I don't get hurt much, but I'm not invincible
Bidin' my time with you, then things got political
Oh, I read your last text, you're gettin' bold
Tellin' me what rocks your boat, what keeps your heavy heart afloat
I don't know
Bipolar baby, seems like it just went undiagnosed
Blocked me on everything, that's so immature, so unprovoked, I
Don't even know why
Don't know why
I adore
I adore you
Baby, I adore you
If I mentioned the pride before the fall
'Cause I wanna risk it all for you
What they say 'bout the writings on the wall?
No clue
Baby, I adore you
Baby, I adore
I adore you
Baby, I adore
Writer: Anthoine Walters, Aubrey Drake Graham, Bennet Pepple, Gentuar Memishi, Miles Parks McCollum, Noah James Shebib, Omar A. Gomez
Copyright: Lyrics © CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC