[Intro: Drake]
Yeah, I appreciate your patience tonight
It's been a moment since I've done some public speaking
I find nowadays it's, you know, best to keep quiet
But, uh, sometimes you just gotta let it out
Young Angel and Young Lion, you know what it is
[Verse 1: Drake]
Uh, look, I'm the property of October
I ain't drive here, I got chauffeured
Bring me champagne flutes, rosé and some shots over
I think better when I'm not sober
I smoke goodie, no glaucoma, I'm a stockholder
Private flights back home, no stop over
Still spittin' that shit that they shot Pac over
The shit my mother look shocked over
Yeah, but with a canvas I'm the Group of Seven
A migraine, take two Excedrin
I'm the one twice over, I'm the new eleven
And if I die I'ma do it reppin', I never do a second
I swear niggas be eyein' me all hard
And lyin' to they girls and drivin' the same cars
Sittin' there wishin' their problems became ours
‘Cause we have nothin' in common since I done became star
I done became bigger, swervin', writin' in my peers' lane
Same dudes that used to holler my engineer's name
One touch, I could make the drapes and the sheers change
And show me the city that I without fear claim
What I set seems to never extinguish
Coolest kid out, baby, word to Chuck Inglish
Count my own money, see the paper cut fingers
My song is your 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 figure
How to get these label heads to offer him good figures
And me doin' the shows gettin' everyone nervous
'Cause them hipsters gon' have to get along with them hood niggas
It's all good, I'm goin' off like lights when the show's over
Make pasta, rent a movie, call hoes over
Rest in peace to Heath Ledger, but I'm no joker
I'll slow roast ya, got no holster
Wet glass on your table, nigga; no coaster
Burn bread everyday, boy; no toaster
G and Tez got a SIG, but I'm no smoker
They just handin' chips to me, nigga; no poker
I'm with it, Young Money, Cash Money soldier
My cup runneth over
The same niggas I ball with, I fall with
On some southern drawl shit
Rookie of the year, '06 Chris Paul shit
D-R., CJ, and Po, I see y'all
These cases don't work out, I hope we can agree on
Makin' enough to pay any Judge Judy off
First thing I'ma do is free Weezy, go
Yeah, I appreciate your patience tonight
It's been a moment since I've done some public speaking
I find nowadays it's, you know, best to keep quiet
But, uh, sometimes you just gotta let it out
Young Angel and Young Lion, you know what it is
[Verse 1: Drake]
Uh, look, I'm the property of October
I ain't drive here, I got chauffeured
Bring me champagne flutes, rosé and some shots over
I think better when I'm not sober
I smoke goodie, no glaucoma, I'm a stockholder
Private flights back home, no stop over
Still spittin' that shit that they shot Pac over
The shit my mother look shocked over
Yeah, but with a canvas I'm the Group of Seven
A migraine, take two Excedrin
I'm the one twice over, I'm the new eleven
And if I die I'ma do it reppin', I never do a second
I swear niggas be eyein' me all hard
And lyin' to they girls and drivin' the same cars
Sittin' there wishin' their problems became ours
‘Cause we have nothin' in common since I done became star
I done became bigger, swervin', writin' in my peers' lane
Same dudes that used to holler my engineer's name
One touch, I could make the drapes and the sheers change
And show me the city that I without fear claim
What I set seems to never extinguish
Coolest kid out, baby, word to Chuck Inglish
Count my own money, see the paper cut fingers
My song is your 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 figure
How to get these label heads to offer him good figures
And me doin' the shows gettin' everyone nervous
'Cause them hipsters gon' have to get along with them hood niggas
It's all good, I'm goin' off like lights when the show's over
Make pasta, rent a movie, call hoes over
Rest in peace to Heath Ledger, but I'm no joker
I'll slow roast ya, got no holster
Wet glass on your table, nigga; no coaster
Burn bread everyday, boy; no toaster
G and Tez got a SIG, but I'm no smoker
They just handin' chips to me, nigga; no poker
I'm with it, Young Money, Cash Money soldier
My cup runneth over
The same niggas I ball with, I fall with
On some southern drawl shit
Rookie of the year, '06 Chris Paul shit
D-R., CJ, and Po, I see y'all
These cases don't work out, I hope we can agree on
Makin' enough to pay any Judge Judy off
First thing I'ma do is free Weezy, go
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