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Drake - Major Distribution Lyrics

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Drake - Major Distribution Lyrics
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No, no, no, no, no, no
No, no, no, no, no
Major distribution, man, my label on my dick, for real
F*ckin' with your friend and she ain't tell you, y'all ain't shit, for real
I've been out here crushin' on success, now she my bitch, for real
You say I'm persuasive, girl, but you can't spell that shit, for real

Hmm, hmm, in this mansion, I'm Macaulay Culkin
Paid in full, I'm Mekhi Phif'
Know you're tired, we just did dinner for three hours
Lyin' to me all night
Buyin' BM's Benzes out of spite
Paid a hundred, ran up somethin' light
Simple price to keep 'em out my life
Booby Trap, we need a business office
Magic City, need a business office
Twenty-nine, I keep a business office
I'm in love with Houston, Dallas, Austin
Tell your guys to hold off on the team chains
Seem like they may need money for coffins
Cuban girl, her family grind coffee
Text me on the signal, don't call me
Hmm, hmm, major distribution, labels call me
Bad Bunny numbers, it's a robbery
Five-hundred million, just for Aubrey
Mmm, hmm, yeah, major distribution how I pop it
Mention me to be the hottest topic
Same place you send your bitches shoppin'

Okay, go stupid, go stupid
Go stupid, go stupid
Go stupid, go stupid
Okay, okay, go stupid, stupid
Go stupid, go stupid
Go stupid, go stupid
Go stupid, okay

Nigga tried to play this shit light, play it cool, play me like I'm sweet
F*ckin' on an opp nigga bitch, say she miss the golds in my teeth
4L shit, know we steppin', y'all should get to funeral preparin'
SF90, this is not McLaren, make an IG model run my errands
He go missin', we gon' spin his parents, stayed in Houston long as Steve Francis
Shoot his feet, got him doin' dances, wiggin' niggas like I played at Kansas
Ever seen somebody get shot? Lot of shit I seen before the top
I ain't tryna wrestle like The Rock, f*ck the Tris, I'd rather sip the Wock'
Lot of things I do to stay alive, everything except for call a cop
Savage still let his gun pop, FOX 5 gang, get you knocked
Major distribution, labels callin', Harry Styles numbers, it's a robbery
My niggas go in-Zayn to catch a body, we was face to face, you could've shot me

Okay, go stupid, go stupid
Go stupid, go stupid
Go stupid, go stupid
Okay, okay, go stupid, stupid
Go stupid, go stupid
Go stupid, go stupid
Go stupid, okay
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.




No, no, no, no, no, no
No, no, no, no, no
Major distribution, man, my label on my dick, for real
F*ckin' with your friend and she ain't tell you, y'all ain't shit, for real
I've been out here crushin' on success, now she my bitch, for real
You say I'm persuasive, girl, but you can't spell that shit, for real

Hmm, hmm, in this mansion, I'm Macaulay Culkin
Paid in full, I'm Mekhi Phif'
Know you're tired, we just did dinner for three hours
Lyin' to me all night
Buyin' BM's Benzes out of spite
Paid a hundred, ran up somethin' light
Simple price to keep 'em out my life
Booby Trap, we need a business office
Magic City, need a business office
Twenty-nine, I keep a business office
I'm in love with Houston, Dallas, Austin
Tell your guys to hold off on the team chains
Seem like they may need money for coffins
Cuban girl, her family grind coffee
Text me on the signal, don't call me
Hmm, hmm, major distribution, labels call me
Bad Bunny numbers, it's a robbery
Five-hundred million, just for Aubrey
Mmm, hmm, yeah, major distribution how I pop it
Mention me to be the hottest topic
Same place you send your bitches shoppin'

Okay, go stupid, go stupid
Go stupid, go stupid
Go stupid, go stupid
Okay, okay, go stupid, stupid
Go stupid, go stupid
Go stupid, go stupid
Go stupid, okay

Nigga tried to play this shit light, play it cool, play me like I'm sweet
F*ckin' on an opp nigga bitch, say she miss the golds in my teeth
4L shit, know we steppin', y'all should get to funeral preparin'
SF90, this is not McLaren, make an IG model run my errands
He go missin', we gon' spin his parents, stayed in Houston long as Steve Francis
Shoot his feet, got him doin' dances, wiggin' niggas like I played at Kansas
Ever seen somebody get shot? Lot of shit I seen before the top
I ain't tryna wrestle like The Rock, f*ck the Tris, I'd rather sip the Wock'
Lot of things I do to stay alive, everything except for call a cop
Savage still let his gun pop, FOX 5 gang, get you knocked
Major distribution, labels callin', Harry Styles numbers, it's a robbery
My niggas go in-Zayn to catch a body, we was face to face, you could've shot me

Okay, go stupid, go stupid
Go stupid, go stupid
Go stupid, go stupid
Okay, okay, go stupid, stupid
Go stupid, go stupid
Go stupid, go stupid
Go stupid, okay
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Aubrey Drake Graham, Edgar Ferrera, Elijah Fox-Peck, Miles Parks McCollum, Sheyaa Bin Abraham-Joseph, Tyshane Thompson
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
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