Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Drake
Drake
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
June James
June James
Songwriter
Alonzo Thornhill
Alonzo Thornhill
Songwriter
A. Costley, Jr.
A. Costley, Jr.
Songwriter
B. Glenn
B. Glenn
Songwriter
Aubrey Drake Graham
Aubrey Drake Graham
Songwriter
Ralph R. Johnson
Ralph R. Johnson
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
June James
June James
Producer
Alonzo Thornhill
Alonzo Thornhill
Producer
Chris Athens
Chris Athens
Mastering Engineer
Noel Cadastre
Noel Cadastre
Mixing Engineer
40
Mixing Engineer
A. Costley, Jr.
A. Costley, Jr.
Producer

Lyrics

Yeah Somebody, um Somebody hit me today and they were like "Nah, just make sure, you know You tell me what to do when I get there, you know?" (June, you're a genius) I said, "I respect it, no problem" But I got all these blessings just to give it to others anyway Know what I'm sayin'? Yeah, my hand's always open, for real Ayy Thirty-three years, I gave that to the game Thirty-three mil', I'll save that for the rain Five hundred weeks, I'll fill the charts with my pain Five hundred mil' and I'll fall back in the six Finally give you niggas the space you need to exist Michael Jackson shit, but the palace is not for kids Still women sayin' it's childish, the way we live Brought a few Ws to the six Baby mama fluke, but I love her for who she is Baby, Wayne and Tez responsible for this shit Half the time, I question my consciousness in this shit Other times, I question if compliments are legit Full-time, I'm out here confident as a bitch Tryna make good on the promises that I give Tryna make sure my accomplices are legit Register the business in my brother's name Thirty-five hunnid in her pocket, that should cover things Certified lover man, trappin' out the motherland Always move right so my watch is on the other hand She can try and play it down now, but she was a fan People wanna know what's in my pockets, they don't understand My assistant always findin' Percocet and rubber bands Know my mom might not want to hear how I discover plans Word to Sandra Graham, no one love you like your mother can I watched Michael Rubin win a million off a couple hands I decide what to see next like it's on demand I decide what to be next like I'm switchin' plans I'ma tell you what you feel next like the weatherman I will split heads and break necks for my little man Six God, prayin' hands like I'm a religious man But I'm just a sicker man, wicked man Look, we can argue back and forth, but who's the richer man? Isn't that what matters in this world that we livin' in? Bang those dividends, snakes stay slitherin' How you plan to make it to the top by just fittin' in? How you plan to take a nigga's spot by just givin' in? How you gon' treat this shit like you gon' get to live again? How you gettin' hype off one hit? Do that shit again How you got a manager you met after you got the win? Bet you got some niggas that'll love you 'til the bitter end Bet you got somebody that's just smarter than your other friends Give 'em a percentage, see what happens to your blessings then You just need to stay close to your People that was there when others could've been Than when others should've been Got a nigga starin' at the game like, "Damn, coach, put him in" But you never listen, so you niggas goin' wood again Got us in the crib talkin' 'bout what niggas coulda been, shoulda been And I got your girl on the second floor, beggin' me to put it in And it's not because all of the money that you wouldn't spend And it's not because I set it up to try and get revenge It's because you niggas insecure, you ain't made men It's because even though you hate on me, we stay friends It's because you niggas never learn when to say when Yeah For real Facts, you know what I'm sayin'? Hahaha, yeah
Writer(s): Aubrey Drake Graham, Douglas B. Gibbs, Ralph R. Johnson, June James, Anthony Jerome Jr Costley, Alonzo Thornhill Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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