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it’s up - drake features young thug and 21 savage. lyrics

it’s up lyrics
[intro: drake]

listen to song

i love all my friends
thinkin’ about this life i provide for them
this world has some real things dividin’ ’em
my right hand, he’s muslim, i’ll die for him
my road manager is drunk as h*ll at 5 p.m.
i get knocked down, they help me rise again
ref won’t leave the game, i’m sayin’ “bye” with him
drake, turn this sh*t the f*ck up

[chorus: young thug]
i don’t care ’bout my opps (i don’t care ’bout my opps)
i don’t care ’bout my opps (i don’t care ’bout no opps)
i don’t care ’bout my opps (i don’t care ’bout no opp)
yeah, take a pic (take a pic), richard millie, no stop watch (uh*uh)
take a pic, with your lips, gobblin’ on my c*ck (let’s go, uh*uh, sh*t)
i don’t care ’bout no motherf*ckin’ watch (i don’t care ’bout no watch, nah)
i don’t care ’bout no high end thot (nah, nah)
b*tch, you just a (b*tch, you just a), bystander
christian dior pajama, gucci under, got his number

[post*chorus: drake]
i just picked up somethin’ from mercedes, it’s a one of one
black exterior, the one that i want
red inside like that time of the month
blood money, that’s how i got this
blood money, that’s how i got this
we can vacation wherever we want
’cause i don’t care where none of my opps is

[verse 1: drake]
i told the promoter tonight, put me across from they section
we don’t play patty cake, they just be lettin’ us in, we don’t do the inspection
i can’t sleep at night with thug at cobb county corrections
i think he did enough reflectin’, i think my brother learned his lesson
it’s all just a part of the game, we all gotta roll with protection
and just like the motherf*ckin’ judge, the hammers come out for objections
n*gga, what’s up?
a hundred*and*forty*three rolexes in my collection
i put the h*rns on the front of the ‘bach, you know drizzy gon’ roll like a texan
she textin’ she love me, the mexicans love me
i’m out here just makin’ connections
and junior boy rollin’ like cinco de mayo, he may’ve had a fifth of possession
the way that i’m used to playin’ the politics, swear i could win the election
you n*ggas is overprotective of hoes, i’m already over the next one
i’m at 48 with ty and vino, we drunk, it’s not even a question
these n*ggas tryna send a message, well, leave that sh*t down in the reception, ayy
[chorus: young thug]
i don’t care ’bout my opps (i don’t care ’bout my opps)
i don’t care ’bout my opps (i don’t care ’bout no opps)
i don’t care ’bout my opps (i don’t care ’bout no opp)
yeah, take a pic (take a pic), richard millie, no stop watch (uh*uh)
take a pic, with your lips, gobblin’ on my c*ck (let’s go, uh*uh, sh*t)
i don’t care ’bout no motherf*ckin’ watch (i don’t care ’bout no watch, nah)
i don’t care ’bout no high end thot (nah, nah)
b*tch, you just a (b*tch, you just a), bystander
christian dior pajama, gucci under, got his number (woo)

[verse 2: 21 savage]
you hang around too many n*ggas, that’s p*ssy
you gotta be p*ssy
if it’s on sight, up your gun on me
all that muggin’ and lookin’
yeah, n*ggas doin’ all that woofin’, p*ssy
4l bomb sh*t
walk inside the store, that switch in my armpit
i go wherever, i keep a beretta, and n*ggas ain’t on sh*t
my opps together, but i don’t discriminate, i got ’em both hit
them n*ggas be lyin’, they n*ggas be dyin’ and they’ll never post sh*t
no rap cap come out my mouth
made a couple songs, think he hot now
hit his ass up, he think he pac now
broad day, like he got shot down
chopper bullets make his ass hop ’round
bloodshed, ain’t no way to stop now
go on live and get your ass pop now
seem like everybody want an opp now
leavin’ him flatline
slaughter gang knife in the back, i’m on that time
turn him to a hashtag
make him a “long live”, n*ggas ain’t my kind
tried and true, i’ma pop mine
i was seventeen with a glock 9
i wanna see red, stop sign
i wanna see red, clifford
she keep tryna whip out my zipper
i move to l.a., i’m a clipper
he think with his d*ck, he a tricker
get your b*tch out the car ‘fore we bl!ck her
we put an airtag on his car, he in miami by brickell
say “h*llo” to the four nickel
i got a magazine, you got an issue
givin’ out smoke, p*ssy
my trigger finger broke
don’t try me like no hoe
i always let it blow
i pull up five score, n*gga
we caught him by that store
how much you wanna bet they ass won’t stand right there no more?
i’m slaughter gang ovo
a half a million a show
but i still walk in with that pole
idiot
[outro: drake]
ayy, i’m feelin’ like 2 chainz (tru)
b*tch, i’m 21, b*tch, i’m not 22
knockin’ off the namebrand n*ggas in your crew
heard you miss your dogs, now it’s long live who?
idiot
yeah

- drake features young thug and 21 savage lyrics

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