Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Drake
Drake
Vocals
Birdman
Birdman
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Noel Cadastre
Noel Cadastre
Songwriter
Ozan Yildirim
Ozan Yildirim
Songwriter
Nik Frascona
Nik Frascona
Songwriter
Tim Friedrich
Tim Friedrich
Songwriter
L. Leibfried
L. Leibfried
Songwriter
Kenneth Gamble
Kenneth Gamble
Songwriter
Aubrey Drake Graham
Aubrey Drake Graham
Songwriter
Cameron Giles
Cameron Giles
Songwriter
Darryl Pittman
Darryl Pittman
Songwriter
Joseph jones
Joseph jones
Songwriter
LaRon James
LaRon James
Songwriter
Leon Huff
Leon Huff
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
OZ
OZ
Producer
Noel Cadastre
Noel Cadastre
Recording Engineer
Nik D
Nik D
Co-Producer
Sucuki
Sucuki
Co-Producer
Loof
Loof
Additional Producer
Greg Moffet
Greg Moffet
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Les "Bates" Bateman
Les "Bates" Bateman
Engineer
Chris Athens
Chris Athens
Mastering Engineer
Dave Huffman
Dave Huffman
Assistant Mastering Engineer
Harley Arsenault
Harley Arsenault
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Noah Shebib
Noah Shebib
Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

Yeah I'm in the Missoni room at the Byblos The boat was rockin' too much on some Aaliyah shit For real We goin' from the Vava to Cinq on Cinq, then back to the Vava If you know, you know, baby, I don't, I don't know what to tell you Yeah Ayy Look Long way from sentimental Meet Thomazzo and Ernesto Short rigatoni with the pesto These verses are my manifesto Hallways got an echo Me and Smigs on the loose in the city, you know how the rest go Casual sex, I'm like, "Fuck a dress code" The first martini is an espresso Chill shot glasses with prosecco So ignorant in our hood, they be like, "Why the fuck you makin' techno?" I'm worldwide and this is just another cargo jet flow, I had to let go Life insurance policies, you niggas 'bout to need the gecko I got some meaner threats, though Me, Spider-man, and Leonardo, I'm back tomorrow I had the chopper to a wedding out in Monaco or Monte Carlo I'm losin' track of where we all go I wouldn't trade my life for none of y'alls, it's an embargo Fifty-nine bags on the 767, this is heavy cargo Yeah Fifty-nine bags on the—, ayy Swedish jail cell smellin' like some Carby Musk For your birthday, your boyfriend got a party bus Bottle signs, club lines, should've come with us We left that shit in '09 when we was comin' up I mean, these just my suggestions of course I'm ridin' here fresh off divorce And I'm tryna look in her eyes, maybe express my remorse If she want a rebound with me I'm down to go get her some boards I'm here for the moral support Whippin' the Vespa off of six tequilas Big Benjamins like the Pittsburgh Steelers Drake, you got it Robert Kraft sent the jet for us, that shit was patriotic You would think we live in Baltimore, the way they ravin' 'bout the latest product Teachin' niggas how to mind they business, and my latest stuff Might be the only teacher that gets paid enough That's why I'm in Hyde Park buyin' like half of Harrods You niggas are too concerned with makin' sure y'all outfits gon' match in Paris If we don't like you, you payin' tax and tariffs Come to the 6 and I'm like the actin' sheriff, deputy First got to America, niggas wouldn't check for me No chance the kid'll make it here like vasectomy They underestimated my trajectory But now they gotta pay that shit direct to me I send the label bills, bills, bills like the other two women standing next to Bey, that shit was just Independent women is lovin' the new appearance Matter of time before I go net a Bey like a Paris Like, "Honey, you gotta know that I never wore Mike Amiris or never hopped in a Urus" I got my head in the clouds, I'm serious The lyrics begin to reveal themselves over time periods Promise you'll get that shit when the sky clears This shit designed for divine ears My favorite two words from you white boys is, "sign here" And then comes the sound of glass clinkin' from a wine cheers Swear I'm pocket checkin' y'all for five years And then we 'bout to kick this shit in high gear Eight karats like vegetarians, nigga, the earrings are droopy Contract Lord of the rings, think it's a script for the movie Shout out TV Gucci my cousin is spooky I swear you don't even mean what y'all say like y'all dubbin' a movie Sidebar, Serena, your husband a groupie He claim we don't got a problem but No, boo, it is like you comin' for sushi We might pop up on 'em at will like Suzuki Kawasaki, sushi, saké, the money grow on trees like shiitake They tried to get spicy with me, so I wonder how they gon' stop me I'm really on a roll like hamachi The fuck would y'all really do without me? For your birthday, your man got a table at Hibachi Last time I ate there, Wayne was doin' numbers off the cup like Yahtzee And Paris Hilton was steady duckin' the paparazzi Quavo might've sent me a song that he called "Versace" I really can't remember it properly All I know is that God got me, I'm sittin' on large properties Treat me like a newborn, Lucian not droppin' me I'm goin' pink Floyd, you niggas cannot rock with me She could be givin' me head and somehow you not toppin' me Niggas see the 6ix God pass, they high-fivin' me Need to be high-sixin' me Swear niggas highkey sick of me They wifey on my head 'cause I vibe differently Feel like an Amber alert the way that I can take her to the mall and she find Tiffany I'm like a cup holder the way that these dimes stick to me They should've been in the fountain based on what y'all wishin' me Know what I'm sayin'? Yeah Million-dollar spot (brr, brr) That's how motherfuckers in CMB play it Middle of the ocean (blatt) Just like that (shine, shine) All dark fresh green water Land that thing With 'bout a hundred hoes We up and we livin' like that, boy Fresh fly fish like, you understand me, like, real G shit You hear me? a neighborhood superstar It's bigger than anything You know, we start from the bottom, then we come to the top Get to the top and we stay up there You hear me? (ball, ball, ball, ball, ball) We look down and we'll be down, but we stayin' up And we rise up, we stay on 'em, you heard me? (ball, ball, ball, ball, ball) Big Florida water, big water ocean On that type of time You understand me? Rich nigga, rich life, you understand me? Come from the bottom, but we come from the bottom (rich life) But we understand the bottom 'cause we come from it And we live with it (you understand?) Go to our grave 'bout this here, boy (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Writer(s): Aubrey Graham, Noel Cadastre, Ozan Yildirim, Tim Friedrich, Louis Leibfried, Nik Frascona Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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