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Drake - 9

9
Drake
04:15
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  • Drake
  • MP3 320Kbps
  • 9.76 Мб
  • 04:15

Текст песни

These are my one St. Thomas flows,
Me, my niggas and some Madonna hoes,
That look just like virgins but trust they down to go,
Discussing life and all our common goals,
Smart kids that smoke weed, honor roll,
Look how the champagne, diamonds glow,
Fine dining, pour another glass when the wine is low.
I'm in the crib stacking money from here to the ceiling,
Whatever it is I got, it's clearly appealing,
These other rappers getting that inferior feeling,
I hope you feel it in your soul, spiritual healing.
Take a look at yourself, the mirror's revealing,
If you ain't got it, you ain't got it, the theory is brilliant!
People ask, "How music is going? I heard it pays",
I just came off making two million in thirty days.
Damn, "I guess it does" is what the message was,
Sometimes I feel I be spending my money just because.
With Weezy I'm just out here repping 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 smelling like teen spirit,
I ask kindly if no one out here would bring defeat 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 trying to diss.
Without a response from me you really fail to exist,
And I love to see you fail, that feeling there is the shit,
I swear, pussy nigga, get your bread up,
Enjoy the seat that the stewardess just forced your ass to let up.
Why your scary ass looking down, pick ya head up
No one told you your disguise was the most ridiculous get-up?
With nose-plugs in now, I can smell the set-up,
So you just wasting your time, you only making me better, yeah!
I try to tell them don't judge me because you heard stuff,
Chase N. 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 the couch,
Now we just fucking 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?
Considering 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 y'all to get.
I'm nervous but I'mma kill it 'cause they 'bout to let the realest team in,
Throwing up in the huddle, nigga, Willie Beaman,
But still throwing touchdown passes.
In tortoise frame glasses, hopin' that someone catch it.
People say that old Drake, we startin' to miss it,
But they need to be a little more specific.
Is this what y'all want? In my best Chris Tucker impression,
Ducking 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 coming in second but I never sneeze,
Y.M.O.E, nigga, yeah!

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