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Drake - Ignant sh** (Freestyle) lyrics

[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]
Look, I'm the property of October
I ain't drive here, I got chauffeured
Bring me champagne flutes, ros� 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 sh** that they shot Pac over
The sh** 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***as be eyeing me all hard
And lying to they girls and driving the same cars
Sitting there wishing they problems became ours
�Cause we have nothing in common since I done became star
I done became bigger swerving writing in my peer's 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 doing them shows
Getting everyone nervous, �cause them hipsters gon' have to get along with them hood n***as
It's all good, I'm going 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 gla** on your table, n***a; 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, n***a; no poker
I'm with it, Young Money, Cash Money soldier
My cup runneth over
The same n***as I ball with I fall with
On some southern drawl sh**
Rookie of the year, '06 Chris Paul sh**
[Lyrics from: https:/lyrics.az/drake/so-far-gone/ignant-sh**-freestyle.html]
D-R., CJ, and Po, I see y'all
These cases don't work out I hope we can agree on
Making enough to pay any Judge Judy off
First thing I'm a do is free Weezy, go

[Verse 2: Lil Wayne]
And I'd take probation
I don't want that T.I. and Vick vacation
Private plane, pick location
I'm 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 Jr. fighting the d** and gun charge
sh**, don't leave me unguarded
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 retarded
Red light on it, like it's recording
I ain't recording, I'm just C-4ing
My currency foreign; we are in a league they aren't
Better dig in your pocket and pay homage
Better cover your eyes, your face fallin'
Watch the game from the side, I'm play callin'
No, I didn't say that I'm flawless
But I damn sure don't tarnish
My pistol got comments for your garments
I'm so high I can vomit on a comet
K-y, no homo, I'm on it
Weezy F Baby, new born b**h
You know what they say 'bout when your palm itch
I'm going get money, money I'm gon' get
Young Money in your tummy and we gon' sh**
And get that toilet paper quick, like when Bones spit
That's right, b**h, I'm back on my grown sh**
That Audemars Piguet, no ice, just chrome sh**
And your boyfriend softer than a foam pit
I scream, "f** the world with a long dick!"
Motherf**er, I'm me! Yeah, b**h, I'm me!
You n***as sweet, like the p**y in which I eat
Fireman burn down your entire street
So fly I'ma take off when I leap
Bye! Then you can s** my wings
Stand on my money, head butt Yao Ming
Put your hand in the oven if you touch my things
I'm shuffling the cards, 'bout to cut my queens
But I ain't the dealer
House full of b**hes, like Tila Tequila
Yeah, I'm the man in the mirror
My swagger just screaming, motherf**er, do you hear her?
Drizzy Drake what the lick read
We make magic, boy; Roy and Siegfried

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