lirik lagu drake - ignorant shit
(feat. lil wayne)
[talking:]
yeah, i appreciate ya patience tonight
it’s been a moment since i’ve done some public speaking
i find nowadays 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 chauffeured
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 sh-t that they shot pac over
the sh-t 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 a second
i swear n-gg-s be eyeing me all hard
and lying to they girls and driving the same cars
sittin there wishing they problems became ours
cause we have nothing in common
since i done became star
i done became bigger swerving right in 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 without fear claim
what i set seems to never extinguish
coolest kid out baby word to chuck english
count my own money see the paper cut fingers
my song is ya girlfriend’s waking 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 the 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 doing them shows gettin everyone nervous cause
them hipsters gonna have to get alone with them hood n-gg-s
it’s all good i’m going off like lights when the show’s over
make pasta rent a movie called hoes over
rest in peace to heath ledger but i’m no joker
i’ll slow roast ya, got no holster
wet gl-ss on ya table n-gg- no coaster
burn bread everyday boy no toaster
g and tez got a cig but i’m no smoker
they just handing chips to me n-gg- no poker
i’m with it, young money, cash money soldier
my cup runneth over,
the same n-gg-s i ball with, i fall with
on some southern drawl sh-t
rookie of the year, ’06 chris paul sh-t
d.r., c.j, an po’ i see y’all
these cases don’t workout i hope we can agree on
making 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
going 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 fighting the drugs and gun charge
sh-t, don’t leave me un-guarded
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 r-t-rded
red light on it like it’s recording
i ain’t recording i’m just c-4’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 falling
watch the game from the side i’m play calling
no i didn’t say that i’m flawless
but i, d-mn sure don’t tarnish
my pistol got comments for ya garments
i’m so high i can vomit on a comet
k-y no h-m- i’m on it
weezy f baby new born b-tch
you know what they say bout when ya palm itch
i’m gonna get money money i’m gonna get
young money in ya tummy and we gonna sh-t
an get that toilet paper quick like when bone spit
that’s right b-tch i’m back on my grown sh-t
that oughta marvin gaye no ice just chrome sh-t
and ya boyfriend softer than a foam pit
i scream f-ck the world with a long d-ck
motherf-cker i’m me, yeah b-tch i’m me
you n-gg-s sweet like the p-ssy 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 headb-tt yao ming
put your hand in the oven if ya touch my things
i’m shuffling the cards bout to cut my queens
but i ain’t the dealer
house full of b-tches like tila tequila
yeah, i’m the man in the mirror
my swagger just screaming motherf-cker do you hear her
drizzy drake what the lick read
we make magic boy roy and sigfried
who! young mullah baby, yeah
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