Lyrics: Aubrey Graham
Music: Aubrey Graham
Yeah
Oh, oh, oh
Ayy, ayy, ayy
Ayy, woah, yeah, ayy
Dun, dun, dun
Alright, look
Listen up, it's about to be smoke
Ain't nothin' but some shit I wrote
About a rich ass nigga that's deep in the game
They call me Drizzy Drake and I'm keepin' the name
I sport Nike shoes, I got a mic to use
To talk bad about you pussies, I don't like you fools
Got an Oakland show tonight, baby
My young boys from The Yoc goin' crazy
I'm on a bridge with a tank of unleaded
I pull up early to that bitch, that bitch was yankin' already, I said yank
In the city and I really got rank
You see the backpack to the front, you gettin' spanked
I really blow M's for the fun of it
New owl, blue diamonds on the front of it
Shout my lil' cousin, Mr. Havin' None Of It
Tryna campaign, yeah, Drizzy back runnin' shit
Woah, woah, livin' large, yeah
And I put that on, this ain't the boulevard
When I lost big Mighty, I took it hard
Need to call up a star for some Chrome Hearts
If you my new girl, girl, you gotta look the part
Ayy, it's Mr. Make Her Pipe Down, there he go
Yeah, it's Mr. Popstar, that's the way it go
Now I'm too hard for the ****in' radio
Too hard for the ****in' radio
Yeah, too hard for the ****in' radio
Too hard for the ****in' radio
Wah, wah, wah, hey, hey
What, yeah, what
I'ma show you what to do, lil' nigga, ayy
I'ma show you what to do, lil' boy, ayy
I'ma show you what
Ayy, first off, I make real time smacks
Boy, you know the motto, gotta push it to the mac
Back when they was askin' 'bout where Davidson was at
Now everybody got a blue thirty on they back
Must've heard about us, gotta catch up to the slaps
You ain't had one since me and YG rapped
Facts, nine-hundred million for the tracks
Rack City, bitch, we remember that
Yeah, you should try and get back to that
This new shit, you could've kept it on the Laugh Fact'
Hit a nigga doin' laps
Strippers on my lap, I'm 'bout to make her back bend
Ayy, tell her come and give the boy a lap dance
Damn, y'all was really island hoppin' back then
Huh, now y'all names got redacted
Yeah, now a nigga gotta fact check, what?
Yeah, and I'm on the west like the Pac-10
Yeah, I'm ****in' power couples up, yeah
Actin' like you love marryin' your wife, ayy
You boys need to worry 'bout a jury in your life, ayy
Wop, wait, hey, shay, hey
Woah, woah, livin' large, yeah
And I put that on, this ain't the boulevard
When I lost big Mighty, I took it hard
Need to call up a star for some Chrome Hearts
If you my new girl, girl, you gotta look the part
Ayy, it's Mr. Make Her Pipe Down, there he go
Yeah, it's Mr. Popstar, that's the way it go
Now I'm too hard for the ****in' radio
Too hard for the ****in' radio
Yeah, too hard for the ****in' radio
Too hard for the ****in' radio
Wop, wait, hey, shay