Текст песни Drake - 9 AM In Dallas

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Yakniga
[Drake]
These are my one St. Thomas flows
Me, my n*ggas and some Madonna hoes
That look just like virgins but trust they down to go
Discussing life and all our common goals
Smart kids that smoke weed, honor roll
Look how the champagne diamonds glow
Fine dining pour another glass when the wine is low
I'm in the crib stacking money from here to the ceiling
Whatever it is I got, it's clearly appealing
These other rappers getting that inferior feeling
I hope you feel it in your soul, spiritual healing
Take a look at yourself, the mirror's revealing
If you ain't got it, you ain't got it the theory is brilliant
People ask: "how music is going, I heard it pays"
I just came off making two million in 30 days
Damn, "I guess it does" is what the message was
Sometimes I feel I be spending my money just because
With Weezy I'm just out here repping us
Till I get to shake the hand of the man that's blessing us
Yeah, I know these n*ggas miss the mean lyrics
Kush got the room smelling like teen spirit
I ask kindly if no one out here would bring defeat up
Until I lose, for now I'm the game's single leader
I fly private so no one tells me to bring my seat up
And book a suite where me and your favorite singer meet up
Who you like, tell me who it is
I'mma make sure that that woman is the next one on my list
I should call it a night, but f*ck it I can't resist
This one is for all the n*ggas from my city trying to diss
Without a response from me you really fail to exist
And I love to see you fail, that feeling there is the shit
I swear, pussy n*gga get your bread up
Enjoy the seat that the stewardess just forced your ass to let up
Why your scary ass looking down, pick ya head up
No one told you your disguise was the most ridiculous get-up?
With nose-plugs in now, I can smell the set-up
So you just wasting your time, you only making me better
I try to tell them don't judge me because you heard stuff
Chase N. Cash that's my brother from the Surf Club
That n*gga always kept it so hood
Back when we would smoke good at the Oakwoods
And have girls fall through like coins in the couch
Now we just f*cking all the b*tches they warned us about
Scared for the first time, everything just clicked
What if I don't really do the numbers they predict?
Considering the fact that I'm the one that they just picked
To write a chapter in history, this shit has got me sick
But if I really do it don't expect to get a split
Cause this truly is some shit I don't expect for y'all to get
I'm nervous but I'mma kill it cause they 'bout to let the realest team in
Throwing up in the huddle n*gga Willie Beamin'
But still throwing touchdown passes
And tortoise frame glasses, hopin' that someone catch it
People say that old Drake, we startin' to miss it
But they need to be a little more specific
Is this what y'all want? In my best Chris Tucker impression
Ducking your questions, f*ck your suggestions
Money gets all of my love and affection
Cars all black like the cover of Essence
I'm allergic to coming in second but I never sneeze Y.M.O.E
N*gga young

N*gga Y.M.O.E n*gga yeeah
Uh, yeah, this what y'all want
October's very own
Young Money
ATF
Thank me later in this b*tch wasup
Free Weezy in this b*tch wasup
June 15th in this b*tch wasup
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